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‘Well, well! Who’d a thought to see you so soon again!’ ” 

Page 185 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 

OR 

SCOUTING ON THE MISSISSIPPI 
IN A HOUSE BOAT 


BY 

WALTER WALDEN 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
CHARLES L. WRENN 


PUBLISHED WITH THE APPROVAL OF 
THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA 


NEW YORK 
BARSE & HOPKINS 
PUBLISHERS 


V 


1 ' 


THE BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES 


FublisKed -witH tHe Approval of tHe 
Doy Scouts of America 

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, 

75 cents, postpaid. 

THE BOY SCOUT FIRE FIGHTERS— Crump 

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIGHTHOUSE TROOP 
— McLane 

THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS— Cheley 
THE BOY SCOUT TREASURE HUNTERS— Ler- 

RIGO 

BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT— Walden 
BOY SCOUTS COURAGEOUS— Mathiews 
{Other volumes in preparation) 

DARSE & HOPKINS 

Publishers New York 



Copyright, 1918, by 
Barse & Hopkins 

Copyright 1916, 1917, by 
The Boy Scouts of America 


Boy Scouts Afloat 


JUN 20 liiij 


©CI.A499397 


I 




00 




To 

MR. WALTER P. McGUIRE, Eduoe; 

AND 

MR. FRANKLIN K. MATHIEWS, Dibectob,’ 

THE LIBEAEY DEPARTMENT, BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA. 
Dear Friends: 

Here is my tale of the old Mississippi. And 
now I wonder how I am to word what is in my 
heart. ... I can only say that it is my hope that 
the story may so far interest the boys of America 
( to whose welfare you do both give the best of your- 
selves) as to justify you in that encouragement and 
direct help, which you have so generously bestowed 
on the author. 

IF. W. 

Campbell’s Island, 

In the Mississippi River, 

January 8th, 1918. 


/ 


JUST A HINT OF WHAT IT’S ABOUT 


And now will you have a tale of the river — 
say, of the adventures of a crew of Scouts thereon? 
Perhaps you have read some of the story of the 
Mississippi. How the pioneers — Spanish, French, 
English — came upon it, and marvelled at the 
bigness of it. And, as they followed its course 
in those old keel-boats, how their eyes went wide 
at the grandeur of wooded shores, islands, tower- 
ing hills. How at times they suffered attacks by 
objecting Indians. Even now, as I write, I have 
under my eye the very place of one of those bat- 
tles — on an island. 

Would you like to make a floating voyage on 
the river, of some hundreds of miles, prying into 
dark, mysterious nooks? And feel the river in 
its many moods, from sleepy purling to wild 
thrashing about, tossing boats, booming on the 
shores? And hobnob with the fishermen in their 
cabins? And hail the passing steamboats? And 
visit the river towns? And tie up at a different 
place almost every day? And all along have 
some extraordinary experiences? Then let us 
tack us to the Scouts, and share all their ad- 


PREFACE 


ventures. And finally help in the figuring out the 
Cryptograph — secret writing that points the way, 
through the haunted house and all, to the long 
ago buried — But it will be hardly fit to hint more 
of all the river has piling up for us. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Just a Hint op What It^s About .... v 

CHAPTER 

I A Fire — ^and a Leader 9 

II Wireless and a New Scout 22 

III Voices in the Wireless — Building the House- 

Boat 28 

IV The Start in the Fog — The Steamer Grounded 

ON A Bar 37 

V The Pearl Fisher^s Story 51 

VI Ray and Slicky Play at Lunatics .... 63 

VII A Night Adventure 73 

VIII On the Trail op the Chicken Thiep ... 83 

IX Ray^s Log — The Night Fishing — The Boy’s 

Warning 98 

X Playing Smugglers and Catchers .... 110 

XI The Midnight Surprise Party 121 

XII River and Land Scouting 136 

Xni The Cyclone and the Steamboat .... 149 

XIV The “Whippoorwill” in Danger 159 

XV The Cave . . . 166 

XVI The Fugitive’s Story— Good-by “Whippoor- 
will” 175 

XVII Return Voyage — Hiram Blaisdell .... 182 

XVIII The Widow Albright 187 

XIX The Haunted Mansion 196 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XX The Cryptograph 203 

XXI A Disappointment 211 

XXII The Struggle Renewed 219 

XXIII The Cache on the Island 226 

XXIV Scouts in Court 232 

XXV Thanksgiving 237 


ILLTJSTEATIONS 


W ell, well I Who a thought to see you so soon 
again Frontispiece 

TACIN« 

PAGE 

“ ‘The gang down in Delville won’t do a thing to you 

guys,’ he called back, pulling hard” 106 

“It closed around them in the hands of the Scouts” . . 132’' 

fy' 

“Suddenly the storm was upon them with a roar” . . . 152 


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I 



BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


CHAPTEE I 

A FIEE — AND A LEADER 

I T was in the Public Library that the bee 
crawled into the bonnets of Wayne Scott and 
his particular chum, Bay Eeid. Eummaging 
among the books for something new they came 
upon a Handbook for Boys, In two weeks they 
had found their scoutmaster. 

Mr. John Maclay was a man near sixty, full of 
frontier experience, fond as any boy of the out- 
of-doors, and he knew how to do things. Then 
came busy times after school, what with their 
work through the tenderfoot and then through the 
second class requirements, and their labor on a 
forester tent, while the scoutmaster sawed and 
hammered into form a Quincy model rowboat, to 
mate another he already possessed. And in time 
Wayne and Bay began the coaching of the other 
boys: Leslie Dunn, Joe Hunt, Phil Conger, 
Charles Manners, Louis Bowman, and Bert Hill. 
They had one patrol, the Whippoorwill. By ad- 
vice of the scoutmaster the recruiting of addi- 


10 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


tional patrols was put off till another season. 
Riverton lay right on the shore of the Mississippi 
river, and the wooded hills began just eight blocks 
back from the water. Great times the boys had 
had on the mile-wide stream, skating in winter, 
swimming, boating, and fishing in summer. But 
now was to come the best times ever, so their 
scoutmaster promised them. 

The Riverton troop met regularly in the scout- 
master’s workshop and all were present each 
meeting, including the horse. Major, his head pro- 
truding into headquarters through the window of 
his stall. On a Wednesday evening, when all 
were gathered together, Mr. Maclay announced 
that it was time they should select their patrol 
leader. 

*‘Oh, we want Wayne,” broke out Leslie Dunn. 

‘‘Second the motion,” sang out Ray. 

Wayne rose to his feet, frowning. 

“No, not for me,” objected he. “I don’t like to 
boss people. I haven’t got enough — enough — ” 
He couldn’t find the right word. He turned to 
Ray. ‘ ‘ Here ’s Ray, here, he ’s always bossing me, 
and — ” 

But Ray jumped to hi^ feet. “Nothing doing! 
Don’t let him put any joke like that over on you. 
Why, you fellows all know I couldn’t keep a dig- 
nified face long enough to give an order; and if I 
gave one you wouldn’t know if I meant it or was 


A FIRE— AND A LEADER 


11 


just kidding you. I’m just fit to fall in at the tail 
and help Phil make a noise, and it’s no go. — 
All in favor of Ray Reid for patrol leader jump 
fourteen feet in the air, contrary stay on the 
ground. The contraries have it.” And he 
thumped his stool on the floor and sat down on it. 
Major bobbed his head in approval, and seemed 
inclined to join in the general laugh. 

Louis Bowman showed an eagerness that gave 
away his ambition, but the scoutmaster closed the 
discussion by stating that he would have each of 
the scouts in turn take the patrol out for a spell 
of scouting, and the result should determine who 
was to be patrol leader. 

“The good of the patrol,” said he, “and not 
personal inclination, will, of course, he the sole 
consideration; and each scout will be judged by 
the Scout Law, the first article of which says, ‘A 
scout is trustworthy.’ ” 

Louis made a bid for leadership on the first trip, 
saying that his father had been teaching him 
marching, so he would like to give the patrol the 
benefit of his learning. 

“Very good,” said Mr. Maclay. “You can 
take the patrol out on Saturday. ’ ’ 

When the scouts of the Whippoorwill Patrol 
met at the Bowman home Saturday morning they 
were not a little astonished when Louis took from 
them their staffs and provided them with wooden 


12 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


guns, which he said his father had helped him 
manufacture of broom handles and triangles of 
board for stocks. The boys in days past would 
have enjoyed these make-believe tools of bat- 
tle.” But now they had come to look upon guns 
as no part of a scout’s equipment. And they felt, 
too, that their scoutmaster would hardly approve 
this substitution of the flimsy guns for the more 
useful staffs. But Louis had been appointed 
their leader for the day, and they were told to give 
him obedience ; so they accepted the situation pre- 
pared to bow to his orders. 

Mrs. Bowman beamed on her boy as he marched 
proudly, if stiffly, out of the yard at the head of 
the ‘‘armed” patrol in column of twos. He car- 
ried a rusty old sword-bayonet at his shoulder. 

Louis clung to his home neighborhood with his 
patrol for some time, marching up one street and 
down another, under the admiring gaze of little 
boys. He kept his line changing constantly, from 
twos to fours, and then single file, guns shifting 
from shoulder to shoulder, and to every position 
he could remember or imagine. He would jerk 
his body around to face the patrol when giving 
his orders, which he snapped out with sudden, 
barking accents. He kept his body stiff, much like 
a gate-post with mechanical legs for locomotion. 

Some of the boys’ faces began to twist into 
frowns; others drooped as if caught in a foolish 


A FIRE— AND A LEADER 


13 


stunt; Wayne’s face pictured impassivity; Ray 
mumbled things under his breath and began to 
look ominous. 

When the patrol got to the last group of houses, 
up near the pasture, Louis could not resist a last 
bit of showing off before the dwellers, and he be- 
gan to bark orders again for a variety of maneu- 
vers. His great pet was ^‘marking time,” per- 
formed, as he showed, with lifting the feet high in 
the air at each step, body stiffly erect. The boys 
found it very fatiguing. 

^*Left — right, left — right, left — right.” He 
snapped it out with gusto. 

*^Left — right, left — right; when I’ve had you 
four weeks,” said Louis, keeping time with his 
words, *^1^11 have you a fine drilled company.” 

Ray raised his brows, and then puckered his 
lips at the thought, his body swaying with the step. 
Reciting in perfect rhythm with the “mark time,” 
he mumbled just loud enough for his comrades 
about him to hear as they continued the unpleas- 
ing exercise : 

‘ ‘ Humph ! Left — right — left — right — before— 
you — have — us — three — weeks — / — can — see — 
the — flag — at — half — ^mast — left — right — and — a 
two — by — six — ^hole — in — the — cem-e-tery — left — 
right — and — a — hunch — of — flowers — tied — with 
— a — big — ^wide — rib — ^bon — stuch — up — on — 
the — Bow — ^man — front — door — and — a ’ ’ 


14 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘ ^ Halt ! ’ ’ came from Louis. ‘ ‘ Forward, march ! ’ ’ 

Then in three minutes the patrol had scaled 
the fence and were in the pasture, across the road 
from the river, which, unknown to them then, was 
to have such a big place in their scout experience. 
Louis marshaled his company in battle order, and 
had them kneeling and firing, finally charging the 
imaginary enemy. Louis himself swung his 
sword-bayonet, chopping down here and there a 
tall, dry, inoffensive weed of last summer’s 
growth. The carnage was considerable. 

Wayne had played this game in this very same 
place, time and again, with vim. But now he felt 
foolish; to him scouting meant something very 
much more worth while. It was apparent that 
the other scouts felt much the same ; for there was 
lack of enthusiasm — Louis excepted, for he was in 
his glory. But presently even he got enough for 
a spell. 

The noon hour had come, so they kindled a 
camp-fire to the lee of a great elm, for a brisk wind 
was blowing off the river. The boys dug into 
their knapsacks for sandwiches and other goodies, 
provided against scout appetites. The fire went 
to waste, for there had been nothing provided by 
the leader in the way of cooking stunts, or any 
other real scouting, for that matter. Yet, in spite 
of their being under Louis’ orders for the day, 
Wayne and some others, taking advantage of the 


A FIEE— AND A LEADER 


15 


noon respite, had out their memo books, and were 
making notes of observations of trees, for Mr. 
Maclay had set them a task on their previous hike. 

Finally Louis jumped up, evidently excited. 

‘‘IVe got a fine ideaT^ said he. (Ray’s face 
went aghast at the thought.) We ’ll set fire to 
the enemy’s fort,” continued Louis, ‘‘and when 
they run out we’ll chase them and shoot them 
down. ’ ’ 

Over toward a cow-shed — which stood within a 
corral abutting the railroad right-of-way — ^was an 
immense pile of brush. Louis ordered the scouts 
to pull out some of this brush with which a very 
inflammable fort was constructed. Then he made 
a torch of a bundle of weeds, and stealthily creep- 
ing up to the fort thrust it into the mass. The 
dry leaves and grass blazed up. He rushed back, 
gave the order to charge, and drawing his sword- 
bayonet, led the way through the woods after the 
fleeing enemy. 

Wayne noted the profusion of dry grass and 
weeds and the strong wind, and couldn’t refrain 
from calling out : 

“We can’t leave that fire, we — ” 

But Louis turned, and shouted with vehemence : 

‘ ‘You’re under my orders — Charge ! ’ ’ 

So away they all went with a “bang! bang! 
bang!” tearing through the forest after the imag- 
inary foe. 


16 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


But Wayne tarried, with an eye on the wind- 
lashed fire. And then suddenly he put his fingers 
to his mouth and blew a series of quick, shrill 
blasts; and the boys turned about to see the big 
brush heap all ablaze and sending flames half as 
high as the trees. 

Their game was forgot, and all rushed back. 
The fire was already spreading through the grass 
and dry weeds. 

“All scouts run to the river and get your hats 
full of water ! ’ ’ ordered Louis. 

“No!’’ yelled Wayne, now thoroughly aroused. 
“Joe, you and Charles run to that house across 
the tracks and get some sacks — old cloths — any- 
thing — and wet them. The rest of you pull down 
the brush pile as much as you can, away from the 
shed, then beat out the fire in the grass with your 
guns.” And he set the example, attacking the 
blazing heap. 

The boys rushed to execute Wayne’s commands. 

“The shed’s afire!” yelled Bert Hill. 

Wayne dropped his gun and rushed toward the 
shed, on whose roof brands were dropping; and 
the roof itself was blazing in two places. Wayne 
climbed on the corral fence and from there on to 
the roof, tore off his coat and set to beat out the 
fire. Leslie was soon beside him. Ray and the 
others worked to level the blazing brush heap. 

Within the corral a cow and a calf rushed fran- 


A FIEE-AND A LEADEE 


17 


tically about, seeking escape. At Wayne ^s call, 
Eay darted over and let down the bars, freeing 
the animals. It was not noted that Louis — who 
had hurried after the two boys who had gone to 
the house across the railroad — had knocked off 
two lower boards of the right-of-way fence, rather 
than climb over. The calf scampered through 
this opening; the cow was held back by the top 
board of the fence. The little animal ran up and 
planted itself between the steel rails right in the 
way of the noon express which was coming tear- 
ing down on the track. 

W^ayne had got out his fire on the roof and 
turned to see the calf’s peril — too late to get any 
of the boys there. But suddenly a boy appeared 
on the right-of-way, making straight for the calf. 
He rushed it off the track, just missing the cow- 
catcher; and the express went roaring by, its 
whistle screaming, the engineer leaning out of his 
cab looking wonderingly on the boy and calf, lying 
tangled together — the poor cow at the fence 

booing” distressingly. 

Then came the two boys with wet gunny sacks, 
and began beating the grass fire ; the brush heap 
was leveled so that the shed was no longer in 
danger. 

After a while there came from the house — Louis, 
laboring under a bucket of water, with which he 
soaked two square feet of pasture, putting out less 


18 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


than two lineal feet of grass fire. The scouts 
couldn’t help grinning. 

Wayne, curious about the boy who had rescued 
the calf, sauntered over to meet him, busied with 
shoving and coaxing the little innocent back to its 
mother. 

‘‘Hello, Slicky,” said Wayne, hardly knowing 
the boy — face clean, and clothes with some marks 
of neatness. “I’m glad you did that.” 

“Was that scouting you was doing?” said 
Slicky. 

“When?” said Wayne. 

‘ ‘ This morning, ’ ’ said Slicky. 

“That isn’t what our scoutmaster teaches us 
for scouting,” returned Wayne. 

“Didn’t think it was,” said Slicky. “It isn’t 
in the book. ’ ’ 

“What book?” said Wa5me. 

“Scout book,” returned Slicky. “I’ve got 
one.” 

“Oh, I’m glad of that, Slicky.” 

“I know a lot of the second class stutf,” grinned 
Slicky. 

“Oh, that’s fine!” said Wayne. He had a feel- 
ing he’d like to justify Slicky. 

The two boys drove the cow and calf back to the 
corral; and Slicky held the fence boards — pulled 
down by Louis — ^while Wayne nailed them back 
in place, using a stone. 


A FIEE— AND A LEADER 


19 


Slicky Murtry lived in a hovel near the saw-mill, 
with a mother who had never taught him the use 
of soap and water. The nick-name, Slicky, had 
fastened to him by reason of a characteristic cun- 
ning; and in it he took some pride. He had a 
peculiar look, as, with his broad mouth turned to 
a perpetual grin, his chin drawn in, and one eye 
crossed, he blinked up at you as if looking over 
the rims of spectacles. 

Slicky dazzled his playmates with tales of won- 
derful adventure he’d had, mostly in wild lands 
of his imagination. He had a kind of good- 
natured, insinuating way, and he made the tales of 
his adventures so vivid that he had won Wayne’s 
interest when Wayne was younger. But he came 
near leading Wayne into - serious trouble; so 
Wayne, like all his other mates, was forbidden 
to have anything to do with “that Murtry boy.” 
Yet Wayne secretly clung to the thought that 
there was good stuff in Slicky and felt sorry for 
him. 

Wayne refused to leave till the last spark had 
been vanquished. Then he relinquished command 
and showed by his manner that he looked to be 
under Louis’ orders again. 

‘ ^ Get your guns ! ’ ’ commanded Louis. 

Ray at once began a frantic search for the 
weapons. 

“Guess the enemy got them,” he said. Then in 


20 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


a little — ^‘Here’s a piece of one — fell into the fire 
somehow. ’ ^ The other boys smiled. They under- 
stood what had become of their ‘‘guns.’’ 

As the patrol marched back toward home, Louis 
found occasion to say: 

“We put the fire out all right.” 

“Yes, we did,” mumbled Ray, though not for 
Louis’ ear. “And no thanks to the high mucky- 
muck general, with a little bucket of water. I 
know who’s our patrol leader all right — all right,” 
looking on Wayne out of the tail of his eye. 

Wayne punched him in the back to shut him 
up, while Leslie whispered, ‘ ‘ Second the motion. ’ ’ 
And a murmured approval came from the others. 

But Wayne’s punch did no good, for Ray broke 
out again in that undertone. 

“Some folks I know claim they can’t boss peo- 
ple around,” he said. “I never was so bossed 
around in all my life as when we were fighting that 
fire. And it made me hump and do things all 
right — all right. ’ ’ 

When they got near home Louis called a halt. 

“We had a fine day,” he said. “We’ll have 
another one like it soon.” 

“Nothin’ doin’,” mumbled Ray, aside. 

“You privates can go straight home,” continued 
Louis. “As commanding officer under Maclay, 
I’ll report to him.” 

“Going to tell it his own way,” said Ray, as 


A FIRE— AND A LEADER 


21 


they separated. ^‘There’ll be some more reports, 
I reckon. Calls us ‘privates.’ Humph! Guess 
we were till the fire started and our patrol leader 
took charge. Then we were scouts.” 

That evening, the scoutmaster sent for Wayne 
and Ray. When they settled down in the shop. 
Major’s nose and ears in the conference, Ray re- 
fused to talk till Mr. Maclay promised to keep 
Wayne gagged while he gave the story. Then 
the scoutmaster got a report that set both himself 
and Major nodding approvingly. 

“Well, Wayne,” said the scoutmaster at last, 
“it seems fate has picked our patrol leader. No, 
not a word,” he added, as Wayne was about to 
protest; “it’s my judgment you’re best fitted. I 
consider the good of the patrol; and you’ll get 
over your disinclination. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER II 


WIRELESS AND A NEW SCOUT 

HE fathers of Wayne, Ray Reid and Les- 



lie Dunn joined as a troop committee to 


JL contrive with the scoutmaster how the 
boys should get the most out of their scouting. 
They met in secret session. 

Ray went at scout’s pace over to Wayne’s home 
one morning an hour before school time. 

‘^Whip-poor-m-U, whip-poor-it;i-ll, ” came the 
whistled call to Wayne where he sat at his break- 
fast. He met Ray at the door. 

“Hooray! for we, us and company!” shouted 
Ray. “Guess what my dad’s got for us.” 

“All right,” said Wayne, “after I’ve digested 
my breakfast — can’t guess on a full stomach.” 

“Aw! just like you,” said Ray. “Well, it’s a 
full set wireless — two sending and two receiving. 
How’s that?” 

The boys hugged one another, to the amazement 
of Mrs. Scott. 

After school the boys began on the setting up of 
aerials at their respective homes; and Ray, al- 
ready of some electrical experience, within the 


22 


WIRELESS AND A NEW SCOUT 23 


week got all the instruments installed in his and 
Wayne’s rooms. Then it was with a good meas- 
ure of thrill, even if with some awkwardness, that 
they exchanged their first wireless signals. The 
cracking of that spark from energy that one knew 
came through the air was something to make the 
senses tingle. 

In the meantime there came to a climax a matter 
that had been troubling Wayne secretly for some 
time. It was during hikes and other scout activi- 
ties that he had at times caught glimpses of a pair 
of crooked eyes peering out on the doings — and 
particularly on himself — from some bush or other 
hiding-place. The wistfulness in that look 
touched Wayne deeply, but he had never made 
any mention of it to the others. 

One Saturday the troop was out for practice in 
tracking. The scoutmaster had filed a notch in 
the claw of one of Major’s shoes to make his track 
distinctive. He was given a quarter hour’s start 
up the bluff road. The scouts made separate ob- 
servations of the points along the road where the 
horse had changed his gait from a walk to a trot, 
or to a canter, recording their findings in their 
books. Two miles out the trail left the road and 
took to cow paths in the woodland. Then it was 
once when Wayne lingered behind and chanced to 
look back he saw the figure of a boy on the path 
intent on the trail. It was the ostracized Slicky, 


24 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


picking the crumbs of scouting, as it were, in the 
wake of the regular scouts, set in the way of life 
so far above him. 

One evening the scouts were in meeting at head- 
quarters. Major, as usual, stood v/ith head stuck 
well into the proceedings, apparently as intent as 
the boys on the lesson in handling of boats and the 
rules of the road on the river. Mr. Maclay evi- 
dently had something about the river in the back 
of his head, but his tongue never revealed it. 

Suddenly Major drew back his head and danced 
on the floor of his stall, snorting alarm. Wayne 
got the lantern alight and hurried around into the 
barn to investigate. He was a bit startled to find 
the stable door slightly ajar. But when the lan- 
tern illumined Major’s stall, whom should he see 
cowering in a corner but the abashed Slicky Mur- 
try! 

Wayne beckoned him out into the yard, where 
they would be out of hearing. 

didn’t mean no harm,” began Slicky, plain- 
tively, jest — ” 

“That’s all right,” interrupted Wayne, gulping 
at a lump in his throat. “That’s all right. It’s 
no harm, and maybe you’ll get a chance some day. 
I hope so.” 

“Do you think so?” said Slicky; and the eager- 
ness in his tone would have moved a stoic. 

“Yes,” said Wayne. “I’ll help when I can.” 


WIRELESS AND A NEW SCOUT 25 


After his short talk with Slicky, Wayne re- 
entered the shop. The scouts, being busy, were 
satisfied with his mere assurance that the horse 
was all right. 

Mr. Maclay impressed on the boys the need of 
earning their uniforms. So on a Saturday they 
all went to Mr. Joseph Stone, who supplied the 
town with sand and lime and got work at shoveling 
sand from the barges moored at the river shore. 

In this labor Louis Bowman took no part, and 
when he was sent for there came back a word from 
his father saying that since it was his purpose 
soon to move to another region he thought best 
that Louis drop out. 

No sooner did Wayne get knowledge of this than 
he hastened to the scoutmaster with all the story 
of Slicky Murtry and his yearnings. 

‘ ‘ Wayne, said Mr. Maclay, putting his hand 
aifectionately on the boy’s shoulder, “that is very 
fine in you — that’s real scouting; and you’ve set 
me an example. I’ll talk with the parents of my 
scouts, and it won’t be my fault if they don’t 
agree. ’ ’ 

The parents aU did agree, and when the scout- 
master announced to the boys that Louis’ place 
in the patrol was to be given to Slicky Murtry 
there was heard no dissenting voice. 

Slicky insisted on a scrubbing and brushing up 
before he would allow Wayne to take him to the 


26 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


scoutmaster. It was the happiest hour he had 
ever known, and Wayne’s face beamed with him. 
The scoutmaster admitted himself amazed at the 
sum and variety of scoutcraft Slicky had picked 
up all on his own hook. 

‘‘And now,” ended Mr. Maclay, “you must earn 
your uniform. Can you find a job?” 

‘ ‘ Oh, I ’ll find something, ’ ’ grinned Slicky. 

Then as the two boys walked away, “You done 
that for me,” said Slicky. 

‘ ‘ Oh, no, ’ ’ said W ayne, ‘ ‘ you did it yourself. ’ ’ 

“Are the kids willing?” said Slicky, his tone a 
bit doubtful. 

“You bet!” said Wayne. “You just work and 
you’ll see they’U treat you right.” 

A couple of days after at supper Wayne’s fa- 
ther turned to him. 

“I saw your friend, the Murtry boy, a while 
ago,” he said. 

“Where?” said Wayne. 

“I went down to look at the corner where the 
new store is going up, ’ ’ said Mr. Scott. ‘ ‘ Thomp- 
son is wrecking the old one. I was talking with 
him when I noticed the boy sitting on a box chop- 
ping mortar off the old brick. 

“ ‘That boy,’ said Mr. Thompson, ‘came to me 
the other day and said he wanted to work. I 
laughed at him,’ Thompson went on, ‘for I knew 
he was just about the orneriest boy in town. But 


WIRELESS AND A NEW SCOUT 27 

he seemed anxious, so I thought it would he fun to 
see him try to work, and I offered him five cents 
an hour to clean the old brick. Well, that young 
cuss was soon working like an old hand. He 
comes after school and donT stop for anything till 
six — just like he’s doing now. Something’s 
come over that boy,’ said Mr. Thompson. ‘If he 
finishes that brick, like he says he will, I’ll just 
measure up the pile and pay by piece-work, and 
I’ll bet it won’t be less than seven dollars.’ ” 
“He’ll finish it,” declared Wayne. “Oh, I’m 
glad!” 

» “I gave Mr. Thompson a hint of what he was 
working for,” said Mr. Scott, “and he said, ‘You 
don’t say! Well, I never thought anything could 
change a boy like that. ’ ’ ’ 

And now, while we are talking about Slicky, we 
may as weU tell something a little prematurely. 
It was before the summer had well set in, that the 
troop committee got together and managed it be- 
tween them to take Slicky to an eye specialist in 
a neighboring city, who, by cutting some threads 
of tissue in Slicky ’s crooked eye, managed to 
straighten it out as good as any boy’s. It kept 
Slicky in the hospital nearly two weeks, but when 
he came out, and got on his new scout uniform — 
well, there were many of the townspeople who 
hadn’t the remotest idea who the boy was. 


CHAPTER III 


VOICES IN THE WIRELESS BUILDING THE HOUSE-BOAT 

W AYNE decided to try for a word with 
Ray, via wireless, before undressing 
one night, and, as usual, proceeded first 
to listen in, lest Ray should be calling. Then an 
amazing thing happened. He got on his receiver, 
and was gently moving a slide on his tuning coil, 
when suddenly a voice sounded in the instrument 
at his ear — just as in a telephone. He felt his 
skin crinkle. A voice in the wireless! And he 
recognized the voice — the scoutmaster’s! 

‘^Mrs. Dunn told me you failed to come on the 
early train,” Mr. Maclay was saying. 

‘‘Yes, I missed it,” came in tones of Mr. Dunn’s 
voice. 

“I trust you had a successful trip,” said the 
scoutmaster. 

“Very satisfactory,” came the reply. 

“Are you too tired to take a little walk up?” 
asked Mr. Maclay. 

“Glad to come,” said Mr. Dunn. 

“Mr. Scott and Mr. Reid are here, and we’d like 
to come to a decision about that house-boat trip 
down the river for the boys. Mr. Scott has plans 
28 


VOICES IN THE WIRELESS 


29 


here for the boat, and would like to start construc- 
tion day after to-morrow. We thought we’d 
spring it on the boys to-morrow evening — as a 
surprise, and let them vote on it. ’ ’ 

‘‘It isn’t hard to predict what their vote will 
be,” laughed Mr. Dunn. “I’ll be up in ten min - 
ntes.” 

The conversation was brought to a conclusion. 
Wayne fairly shook with excitement. To think of 
the wireless telegraph acting as a wireless tele- 
phone ! And then to bring such news ! At once 
he began calling Ray : 

‘ ‘ RR, RR, RR, WS. RR, RR, RR, WS. ’ ’ 

Then he switched in the receiving set again, and 
there came the answer: 

“WS, WS, WS, RR.” 

Wayne began sparking off his message: 
“Important. You take bike and get Phil, 
Charles, Bert, to headquarters yard in fifteen min- 
ntes, on quiet, I get rest. ’ ’ 

“O. K.,” was Ray’s reply. 

Slipping down into the summer kitchen, Wayne 
got out his machine, and in a flash was spinning 
down the street. At Joe Hunt’s home, he halted 
just long enough to cite J oe to the rendezvous, and 
was off to Leslie Dunn’s. His wheel went like a 
motorcycle toward the saw-mill district, picked up 
Slicky Murtry on the handle bars, and in a few 
minutes more reached Mr. Maclay’s yard, where 


30 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


already in the dark, under the trees, there whis- 
pered six wondering scouts. 

‘‘Well, whaUs the funeral?^’ demanded Eay. 

Wayne told of the talk he’d heard over the wire- 
less. 

“ Golly 1 Ghosts in the wireless!” said Eay. 
“If it wasn’t you, I’d say you was stringing us.” 

“Now we’ve got it on them, and we’re going to 
serenade,” announced Wayne. 

“What’ll we sing?” said Eay. And he began 
to tune up on “ Merrily we roll along. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ If you ’ll hold your tongue between your teeth 
I’ll tell you,” adjured Wayne. And he exposed 
his plan. 

The eight boys quietly lined up in the dark, 
before Mr. Maclay’s work-shop door, and at 
Wayne’s “ready” began with whistling the patrol 
call. 

“Whip-poor-i<;i-ll, whip-poor-i(;i-ll, whip-poor- 
wi-l\. ’ ’ Then — ‘ ‘ Hoo-ray! Houseboat trip down 
the Mis-sis- 5 ip — hoo-ray! House-boat trip down 
the Mis-sis-5ip — hoo-m^.^” 

The scouts hadn’t brought their yell to a finish 
before four astonished faces were grouped in the 
opened door. When the eight boys had filed into 
the shop, with Major eyeing them, his ears work- 
ing with interest, Mr. Maclay took his seat, chin 
in hand, and took in the scouts with something of a 
quizzical look. 


VOICES IN THE WIRELESS 


31 


‘‘Well, I canT understand, ^ ^ he said. “YouVe 
been finding out things. I know perfectly well 
none of you would eavesdrop.’’ 

“Major told us, didn’t you. Major?” said Ray. 

Major nodded. 

Then Wayne told of the trick of the wireless, 
repeating the conversation. 

And so, since the cat was out of the bag, the 



a 


House-Boat Whippoorwill — Ground Floor Plan 

boys were at once shown the houseboat plans ; and 
were promised to get their hands in on the work 
on Saturday. 

“Oh, look here, fellows,” said Ray. “Look at 
the roof garden!” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Scott, “there’s to be an upper 
deck; a canopy can be put up for shade.” 

‘ ‘ And look here ! ’ ’ broke in Ray. ‘ ‘ Here ’s poles 
for the wireless.” 

The boys bumped their heads over the plans. 
“Looks like they’ve aU voted,” observed Mr. 
Dunn. 



32 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘They’d raise the roof if we should propose a 
further vote,” smiled Mr. Maclay. 

Early Saturday morning, the eight scouts of the 
Whippoorwill Patrol assembled by the Missis- 
sippi. The place selected for the shipyard was 
marked by a pile of lumber just below the river 
bank ; and a couple of large trestles, across which 
rested a number of broad, heavy planks for the 
sides of the boat. 

“Here she is!” shouted Bay, jumping off the 
bank. “Now bring on your tools. ’ ’ 

The boys made a quick transfer of saws, ham- 
mers, planes, squares, and the like, from Mr. Mac- 
lay’s wagon to the river shore. Mr. Scott took 
charge of the work, taking four of the scouts under 
his direction, and leaving the other four to be kept 
busy by Mr. Maclay. Soon four saws were going, 
and lumber was being placed convenient to the 
hand of the builder. 

Before night the sides of the hull were fash- 
ioned, and the bottom planks ready to be nailed 
on. This was done the next Saturday, and the 
caulking and tarring begun. By the time the deck 
had been spiked on vacation had come, and the 
building of the house-boat progressed more rap- 
idly. 

Then, except for a daily visit or two from Mr. 
Scott, the work went on entirely in the hands of 
Mr. Maclay and the scouts. 


VOICES IN THE WIRELESS 


33 


The night after the hull of the house-boat was 
pronounced completed, the deck all on and every 
crack well caulked, the scouts had a jollification. 
They got a roaring fire going nearby on the sand ; 
the boys lined up, four on each side of the deck ; a 
mill hand sat on a nail-keg, his accordion on his 
knees, and struck up the ‘Wirginia Reel.’’ 
Wayne and Ray, hand in hand, danced down be- 
tween the lines and back, then swung each scout 
in turn, till they got to the foot of the line, where 
they took their places. Then came Leslie Dunn 
and J oe Hunt, repeating the maneuvers, Ray sing- 
ing with the accordion and jigging in his place. 
Next came Phil Conger — ^yelling — and Bert Hill, 
little, lank, and delicate. Last danced down the 
row Charles Manners and Slicky Murtry. The 
mill hand grinned broadly with the fun, and 
worked a lot of elbow grease into his accordion, 
as he played. 

The ^‘reel” finished, the scouts tried waltzing, 
till there was a collision of couples, and Ray tum- 
bled olf on to the sand, pulling Charlie Manners 
off with him. 

‘‘Man overboard!” shouted Ray; and the music 
ceased. 

Presently Phil pulled a large piece of sheet iron 
from a rubbish heap, and the boys put a fire on the 
middle of the deck. The mill man ‘ ‘ tom-tommed ’ ’ 
on a tin pan with a stick and sang in a very good 


34 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


imitation of an Indian, and the scouts caracoled 
round the fire in a war dance. 

Wlien legs began to ache and the scouts to drop 
out, panting, out came bottles of pop and sand- 
wiches, and everybody talked with his mouth 
stuffed full. Wayne leaned over to Eay to mur- 
mur: 

‘‘We haven’t named the house-boat yet — she’s 
the Whippoorwill,^* 

Ray scrambled to his feet, hat in air. “Three 
cheers for the house-boat. Whippoorwill!** he 
yelled. 

“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” went up the 
chorus. 

“Now, scouts, the salute,” said Wayne. 

“Whip-poor-t(;z-ll, whip-poor-i^i-11, whip-poor- 
wi-\\,** 

“Great stuff!” said the mill man. “I’d like to 
be a scout myself.” 

As the patrol went in procession homeward, the 
accordion lightened the scouts ’ steps with a march 
for half of the way to headquarters, where they 
reported to the scoutmaster and dispersed. 

The scouts saw no idle days while the house-boat 
was under construction. Before long a rectangle 
of timbers was bolted to the deck, and the frame 
of the house went up. Then came a noisy ham- 
mering, as the eight scouts nailed on the side 
boards. 


VOICES IN THE WIRELESS 35 

Suddenly Ray began dancing around in pain, 
sucking liis thumb. 

^‘What^s the matter, Ray?^’ said Wayne. 

Waltzing with the hammer T’ 

^‘Say, Idl bet IVe hit my thumb more times 
than you have,” said Ray. 

‘‘Bet you haven’t,” said Wayne. “I just don’t 
let on — I got through sucking my thumb when I 
was a baby.” 

“I can prove it,” said Ray, starting another 
nail. “You’ve got only two thumbs, and I’ve got 
ten” (bang! on the nail) “and they’re all sore as” 
(bang!) ''oul ouch!! — Say, Wayne, you hold my 
nail while I hit it. ’ ’ 

“Get a pair of tongs, Ray,” suggested Phil, 
pounding away on his own board. 

“Thanks,” said Ray, “I wouldn’t deprive you. 
— Pouf ! there ’s the twentieth nail you ’ve knocked 
otf into the sand. This beach will be a regular 
iron mine when you get through. ’ ’ 

Mr. Scott was on hand after the roof was got 
on, to see to the finishing and to construct the floor 
on top. The four double bunks for the scouts and 
the single one for the scoutmaster were also his 
construction, as were the cupboard in the kitchen 
— or galley, as the boys called it, sailor fashion — 
and the three big sweeps, or oars, for maneuvering 
the house-boat. 

And at last came the day of the launching of the 


36 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Whippoorwill, Parents and friends assembled 
that morning on the river bank; Mr. Scott, with 
the help of jack-screws, got the boat down on 
blocks of wood over rails of greased timbers lead- 
ing to the water; the scouts and the scoutmaster 
quietly climbed on to the deck before the cabin; 
Mr. Scott seized a scantling for a battering-ram, 
and knocked out the lower blocks ; and the house- 
boat thumped down and tobogganed into the water 
with a splash, while everybody yelled, ecstatic. 
The scoutmaster seized a coil of rope and cast one 
end to Mr. Scott and Mr. Eeid, on shore, who kept 
the house-boat from beginning her down river voy- 
age forthwith. 

‘‘This is what I call fun,” said Eay. “Dad!” 
he called out, “you pull us up and let’s do it 
again. ’ ’ 


CHAPTEE IV 


THE STAKT IN THE FOG THE STEAMEB GKOUNDED ON 

A BAR 

O UTFIT and stores had been going aboard 
for near half the week. And on the last 
night the parents of the hoys, and the 
sisters and younger brothers, assembled in the 
cabin of the Whippoorwill to break cake with the 
scouts for a final good-by. 

The festivities were a bit mixed — both sadness 
and gayety ; the mothers tried to hide their 
twinges of anxiety. The party broke up early, 
since the scouts planned an early start. It was 
eleven before Phil Conger could be quieted and 
forcibly tumbled into the bunk in which Bert Hill 
had already dropped off. 

The scoutmaster routed the boys out at daylight 
of the seventh of July. 

Golly! see the fog!^’ said Eay, one leg in his 
uniform. Can we start in that, Mr. Maclay U’ 
‘‘Yes,’’ said the scoutmaster, “the flow of the 
river will guide us till we get out in the channel ; 
then the current will take care of us. Now hurry. 
Wayne, Eay, Joe, and Eobert, you’re to man the 
sweeps.” 


37 


38 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Mr. Maclay-, objecting to the nickname, 
‘^Slicky,” had resurrected the boy’s right Chris- 
tian name, Eobert ; but though he used it himself, 
he found difficulty in getting the scouts in the way 
of it; and Eobert himself preferred that his fel- 
low scouts continue to call him “Slicky.” It 
seemed ^‘more friendly-like,” he said. 

^‘Leslie and Charles, you might start the fire in 
the galley stove ; and we ’ll let Eay make us some 
of his famous flap-jacks, presently,” continued the 
scoutmaster. ‘‘Phil and Bert may run up the 
‘ Stars and Stripes ’ and the Patrol Flag, and make 
up the bunks.” 

The sweeps worked under eager hands, and soon 
the scouts knew by the peculiar tumbling of the 
water that they were coming into the rock-bot- 
tomed channel. Mr. Maclay had taken his place 
on the upper deck — the “hurricane deck,” as Eay 
had dubbed it — and every two minutes he blew a 
blast in the foghorn. The fog was very thick — 
unusual for the time of year. 

Eay and Slicky were taken off the sweeps, and 
Eay hurried in to his flap- jack baking, happy as a 
squirrel. The noise-loving Phil was given the 
foghorn, and he tooted fit to shake the fog into 
chunks, as Eay expressed it. 

The scoutmaster and the rest of the scouts, 
except Wayne and Joe, who still stood by the 


THE START IN THE FOG 


39 


sweeps, were at table, when they were disturbed 
by Phil’s pounding on the hurricane deck between 
toots. When they appeared out on the stern 
deck, Phil made explanation. 

‘ ‘ There ’s some monster coming back of us, puff- 
ing with the asthma,” he said. 

Then, in a moment, a down river steamboat 
loomed up in a rift of the fog, neglecting to blow 
its whistle. It bore down quite close to the Whip- 
poorwilL The pilot leaned out of his wheel-house 
to curse the house-boat, and to say : 

‘‘You river rats all ought to be sunk!” 

Ray could not restrain a rejoinder. 

“Better a river rat than a snarling poodle, who 
only ‘ yaps ’ when it does no good ! ’ ’ 

Then he got back to his burning flap-jack, as the 
steamer melted into the fog, down river. 

“That pilot is liable for neglecting to blow his 
whistle in the fog,” said the scoutmaster, “but it’s 
hardly profitable to bark back, Ray,” accepting 
Ray’s metaphor. 

Soon after breakfast the sun lifted the fog off 
the river. Phil reluctantly gave over the horn, 
and the scouts began to enjoy the panorama, as 
they floated leisurely onward. At three o’clock 
the Whippoorwill was tied up at the bank of a 
large island. 

“Twenty-five miles is far enough for one 


40 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


stage/ ^ said Mr. Maclay. We ’ll spend the rest 
of the day organizing and putting things more 
ship-shape.” 

Each scout was assigned to his task, and it 
didn’t take long for eight boys to accomplish what 
was to be done. Then Slicky (Robert) Murtry 
rigged up a throw-line with four hooks, to try for 
some fish, while the others jumped ashore to ex- 
plore the island. Cottonwoods and birches and 
some wild cherry trees, that promised a rare treat 
for somebody on a later day, grew along shore. 
Toward the middle of the island the ground was 
higher, nurturing oaks and elms. Aside from 
starting a cottontail, the boys met with no adven- 
tures. 

J oe and Slicky prepared the supper — bacon and 
eggs. Slicky had not been successful in hooking 
any fish. ‘‘Too early,” he said. The town of 
Blair — as we will call it — was five miles down the 
river, and they were to make a short stay there 
the next day ; so the scouts each prepared a short 
letter home, to reassure the folks with the account 
of the tranquil voyage thus far. 

But it was on the calendar to make some addi- 
tions in the way of postscripts before mailing 
time. It was nearing 8 :30 by the boat clock when 
Slicky came in from the forward deck to announce 
a steamer aground up stream. All hurried to the 
hurricane deck. They could see the lights of the 


THE STAET IN THE FOG 41 

steamer, and heard excited voices, coming from 
somewhere less than a mile above. 

The scoutmaster readily gave his consent to 
the boys ’ rowing to the scene of trouble. 

‘ ‘ Remember that you are scouts and under your 
patrol leader,^’ he cautioned them, as they rowed 
away in the two skiffs. 

The captain and mate of the steamer were voic- 
ing orders, and some of the crew were manipulat- 
ing a spar that hung by the derricks, swung just 
clear of the port bow guards. The spar was low- 
ered, and the iron-shod end was set into the sand 
on which the steamer had grounded. Four-by-five 
ply tackle (or falls) was put on the spar, the lower 
block hooked into an iron ring bolted to the steam- 
er ^s quarter, just above the load-line. The haul- 
ing part of the tackle was passed through a snatch- 
block and brought to the capstan, and six turns 
taken around the barrel. One man took the free 
end in hand and the ‘‘donkey’’ engine started at 
the mate ’s order. 

The scene was illumined by the steamer’s 
searchlight. The scouts watched proceedings 
from their boats. As the line fed on the capstan 
barrel, they could see the spar sink into the sand, 
and presently noted a very slight movement up- 
ward of the steamer, but without the desired 
effect. A number of times the strain was put on, 
but it was no go. Then finally the mate looked up 


42 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


to the captain, who stood beside the pilot-house, 
surrounded by the anxious passengers, and said ; 

‘‘No use, captain, we’ll have to lighten her.” 

“There are no lighters within five miles,” re- 
turned the captain. “With a falling river, by the 
time we can get them here, the sand’ll pile up 
around us so we can’t get out in three days. It’ll 
be like it was up at the cut-off by Harris Slough.” 

At this the passengers chorused protests. “We 
can’t stay here three days,” said they. 

The captain paid no attention to them, but 
turned to the mate. 

‘ ‘ Shift your spar and try her again, ’ ’ he said. 

The donkey engine was again set to work. 
The puffing and straining was repeated, the vessel 
groaning, till finally the captain, with a disgusted 
shake of his shoulders, called to the mate : 

“Leave off! Man a boat and send down to 
Blair for tugs and lighters. That means between 
two and three hours; I reckon we’re in for it.” 

As the mate hurried to obey, Wayne got his boat 
alongside the steamer. Eagle, and called up to the 
captain : 

‘ ‘ Can we be of any use ? ” he said. 

“Who are you?” called down the captain. 

“We’re eight Boy Scouts,” said Wayne. 
“We’re from a house-boat just below.” 

“No, this is no boy’s work,” said the captain, 
the irritation of his situation in his voice. 


THE STAET IN THE FOG 43 

was their light fooled me/’ offered the pilot. 
^ ‘ Those rats ought to be kept off the river. ’ ’ 

reckon he’s a poor pilot,” said Slicky. 
‘‘They always want to blame somebody besides 
themselves. ’ ’ 

Wayne, though a bit put out by the captain’s 
gruff rejection, nevertheless put his thinker to 
work. Here was a crowd of people in trouble; 
what is Scouting for if not to be prepared to help 
in such emergencies. By the words of the captain 
the sand was piling up around the steamer, and 
there was need of tugs and lighters in a hurry. 
Ah ! he had an idea. 

“Eay,” he said, “how soon can we get the wire- 
less in working order?” 

“In two minutes,” said Eay. 

“All right — back to the Whippoorwill/^ urged 
Wayne. “There are some fellows with wireless 
in Blair,” he added by way of explanation, “and 
this is the time they’d be at it.” 

The two skiffs were soon made fast to the house- 
boat, and Eay and Wayne quickly got the aerial 
wires hung between the poles on the hurricane 
deck. By the time the steamer’s boat passed on 
the way to Blair for tugs and lighters, Eay was 
adjusting his detector and the slides on the tuning 
coil. The other scouts watched eagerly till sud- 
denly his face lighted up with some new bit of 
intelligence. 


44 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘ ^ Sure ! ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ Some one is sending now. ’ ’ 

Then he threw the switch over to the sending 
apparatus and began signaling: ‘‘SO S — S O 
S — S 0 S/’ etc. Finally throwing back the 
switch, he listened. In a moment he was jotting 
down this message : 

“Who butting in — ^what is the trouble — ^who are 
you ? ’ ’ 

Then Bay sent the following : 

“Steamer Eagle on bar five miles up river. 
Send tugs and lighters at once. ’ ’ 

“Who are youU’ came the rejoinder. 

“Boy Scouts on house-boat,’’ went Bay’s an- 
swer. 

‘ ‘ Hurrah ! Scouts to rescue. We ’ll send them. 
Wait,” came back. 

A few minutes of waiting and there came a 
crackling again ; and Bay began to write. 

“Father gone down. Tugs and lighters start in 
ten minutes. I ’m coming along. T. M. ’ ’ 

“Those steamboat men’ll be some surprised 
when they meet the tugs, ’ ’ declared Phil. 

The scoutmaster sat by, an interested spectator, 
silent and non-interfering. 

“Well,” he began, “I guess you scouts have 
earned the right to see this thing through. ’ ’ 

When the eight scouts in the two boats had gone 
their way in the darkness, Mr. Maclay set himself 
to pulling the dunnage from beneath his bunk ; and 


THE STAET IN THE FOG 


45 


in a minute he was stretching some folds of canvas 
into the shape of a canoe. It would have sur- 
prised his scouts much if they could have seen 
their scoutmaster making his way up the river on 
their trail, propelling himself in the little canvas 
affair, using a double-bladed paddle. He went 
ashore on the small island just below the grounded 
steamer. 

As the scouts pulled close to the bow of the for- 
lorn Eagle, they were greeted with a friendly. 

Hello, boys, come back to see the wreck spoken 
by the mate. 

‘‘She doesn’t look like a wreck,” said Eay. 

“No, but I guess it amounts to the same thing 
for the next day or two — ^passengers already rest- 
less as a menagerie.” 

“It won’t take that long to get her off, will it?” 
said Wayne. 

‘ ‘ It wouldn ’t if we had tugs and lighters handy ; 
but IVe just been sounding, and the sand, is 
creeping up and the river creeping down, so in 
two hours she’ll likely be so it’ll mean lifting her 
on ways and launching her again. That means — 
maybe two or three weeks. Tie up, boys, and 
come aboard; the captain and pilot have gone to 
their bunks in the Texas for a few hours’ rest, out 
of the way of the passengers.” 

The scouts hadn’t been aboard many minutes, 
looking over the cooling engines, when there came 


46 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


from down the river sounds of a vigorous puffing. 
The mate hurried out on the deck, followed by the 
boys. 

^ ‘ Tugs, by heck I ’ ’ he broke out, and he hastened 
up to the Texas to call the captain, who directly 
appeared, half clad, as tugs and lighters came 
alongside. 

‘‘Hello! What’s this! I haven’t looked for 
you for two hours yet,” said the captain. 

“My boy here can tell you,” said the tug com- 
mander. 

“Some scouts sent me a message,” came a boy’s 
voice. 

“Message! How?” demanded the steamer’s 
captain. 

“Wireless,” said the boy. 

“Wireless! — ^wireless! We’ve got no wire- 
less ! ’ ’ said the captain. ‘ ‘ And no kind of scouts. ’ ’ 
He turned his astonished gaze on the mate. 

“I reckon it’s those kids that offered to help,” 
said the mate. ‘ ‘ They ’re below now. ’ ’ 

“Well, all hands out! No time to lose,” spoke 
the captain. 

And the bustle began. There came the transfer 
of the cargo to the lighters, alongside. To relieve 
the crew, and asking no one’s leave, Wayne invited 
the passengers into the scouts’ skiffs, and set 
them ashore on the island opposite. 

Then the boys watched the tugs hitch on to the 


THE START IN THE FOG 


47 


stern quarter and begin an angry snorting and 
splashing with their propellers. The steamer, 
except to tremble somewhat, showed no effect of 
the strain — budged not an inch. So the tugs 
eased up preparatory to taking a fresh hold. 

In this interval Wayne, who had been watching 
the demeanor of the stranded vessel, had his boat 
quickly pulled to the steamer’s side, and with his 
boat-hook he poked in the water under the guard 
rail. Then seeming to have made a discovery, he 
got the boat beneath where the mate stood. 

‘^The end of a sunken log is in the way,” he 
called up to that disgusted officer. 

The mate sent a man overboard, who quickly re- 
ported: 

‘ ‘ Snag in the bar. ’ ’ 

‘^What’s that?” demanded the captain. 

‘Ht’s a snag, fast in the bar,” answered the 
mate. 

A chain was passed around the end of the log; 
a tug hitched on, a good pull, and the obstruction 
gave way. Then the tugs harnessed themselves 
to the steamer’s stern again. There were some 
minutes of commotion, and the steamer Eagle 
began to oome out of her nest in the sand-bar. 

The steamer’s smoke-stacks were already belch- 
ing black smoke, and in a little while her paddle- 
wheel began to turn, as the tugs cast off. 

When the Eagle had tied up to the bank of the 


48 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


island, and the work of retransferring the cargo 
had begun, our scouts were called by the mate. 

“Captain wants to see you in the Texas/* he 
said. 

When they arrived in the captain’s room, the 
scouts noted, present, the tug captain and a 
strange boy, wearing some parts of a scout uni- 
form ; so they made him the scout salute. 

“I want you boys — or scouts, I guess is the cor- 
rect thing — to sign your names and addresses to 
this sheet of paper,” said the whiskered captain. 

That formality completed, the captain looked 
the boys over critically a moment and said; 

“When I refused your help this evening, why 
didn’t you tell me you hoped I’d never get out of 
that bar?” 

“That wouldn’t be Scouting, sir,” spoke up 
Wayne. 

“What is Scouting, anyway?” said the captain, 
a grin in his eyes. 

“Why, it’s — it’s learning to be prepared; and 
then doing things — doing things to help other peo- 
ple,” was Wayne’s explanation. 

“Well, looks like you fellows live up to it, with 
your wireless business and all, ’ ’ said the captain. 
“But how did you know there was a snag under 
that stern quarter?” he demanded of Wayne. 

“By the way the steamer acted when the tugs 
pulled,” said Wayne. 


THE START IN THE FOG 


49 


“You do keep your eyes open,’’ said the cap- 
tain. “Well, you’ve saved us valuable time, and 
time’s money. I shall report to the owners, and 
they’ll ask for a bill for your services — ” 

“I think there won’t be any bill,” broke in 
Wayne. “But we’ll have to see our scoutmaster. 
He—” 

And here came another interruption, as Mr. 
Maclay stepped in from the deck. 

“I’m glad to meet you, captain,” said the scout- 
master, extending his hand. “As my patrol 
leader, Wayne here, has just said, there won’t be 
any bill. This is just the day’s good turn, as re- 
quired by the Scout Law. ’ ’ 

The scoutmaster, the steamer’s captain, and 
Mr. McArdle, the tug owner, were soon discussing 
Scouting and river matters, leaving the scouts to 
make the acquaintance of the strange boy. He 
gave his name as Tom McArdle, a first class scout 
of Troop 1, of Blair. 

“I couldn’t think at first what that SOS 
meant, ’ ’ he said. 

“Well, you soon caught on,” said Ray. “And 
it didn’t take you long to get the tugs here.” 

“The captain hasn’t got over it yet,” laughed 
Phil. 

“Yes,” said Tom, “father was in the house, 
and he hustled right down — ^the steam hadn’t all 
gone down yet.” 


50 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


There came a call from the mate of, “AlPs 
right So the boys, after a final hand-shake 
with the captain, got into their boats, promising 
to call Tom McArdle on the wireless as they 
neared Blair next day. 

It was not much past eleven when the scouts 
turned into their bunks, well satisfied with their 
first day afloat on the big river. They were all 
sound asleep when the scoutmaster slipped out- 
side, got his canvas canoe, all folded, and con- 
cealed it again under his bunk. 


CHAPTER V 


THE PEAKL EISHEE^S STORY 

I T was eight before any Scout ^s eye opened in 
the morning, though the scoutmaster was al- 
ready about. As the ship ’s clock struck nine, 
they cast loose the mooring ropes from the trees, 
and with a few strokes of the sweeps got the boat 
out into the current. In another hour the boat 
had floated out from between two islands, with 
their dense growth, and the Scouts on the hurri- 
cane deck sighted the church spires and smoke- 
stacks of the town of Blair. 

Ray seated himself before the wireless appar- 
atus, and flashed out his — ^‘TM, TM, TM, WPW; 
TM, TM, TM, WPW; TM, TM, TM, WPW.^’ 

He had hardly turned to the receiving set when 
back came the answer — 

‘‘We are on the way, one hour,’^ wirelessed Ray. 
“We are going to hold you up,^’ came the an- 
swer from Blair. 

Seven Scouts of Blair troop were in boats to 
greet our voyagers. Then came a bellowing ‘ ‘ Um- 
maouw,^’ the caU of the Buffalo Patrol, followed 
by our lads with the “Whip-poor-wi-11.” 

51 


52 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


The Scouts were taken to visit a button factory, 
one in which the clam shells taken from the bed of 
the old Mississippi were turned into pearl buttons. 
Our Scouts had often watched the pearl fishers on 
the river, as they threw overboard their queer 
fringes of many hooks, soon to pull them in again, 
hung with clams ; but till now the boys had never 
seen how the whirling machines cut out the pearl 
disks, and drilled the holes for the thread. 

‘ ^ Say ! ^ ’ exclaimed Ray, looking over the shoul- 
der of one worker, ‘Hhose machines eat a pile of 
shells. Do you ever see any pearls?’^ he ad- 
dressed the man. 

“The pearls don’t come in here,” said the man. 
“You ought to see Marvfin Blaisdell — ^he’s at 
Beaver Island, ten miles down the river, he can 
show you some. He gets the most ; and he sends 
in the best shells. His helper is in town with a 
load to-day.” 

When the Whippoorwill resumed the voyage 
down the river at two, it was with the understand- 
ing that she was to tie up at Beaver Island so the 
Scouts could pay the interesting Marvin Blaisdell 
a visit. It was nearing dusk, and Joe Hunt and 
Bert Hill were calling supper from the galley, 
when Ray and Leslie (boatswain’s crew) maneu- 
vered the house-boat to the island shore. The 
Scouts got into their bunks early, to make up the 
last night’s loss. 


THE PEAEL FISHER’S STORY 53 


Breakfast over, leaving the Whippoorwill in 
charge of the boatswain’s crew (Charlie and 
Phil), the Scouts sought out the pearl fisher’s 
shack, on the low^a side of the island. 

‘‘So you lads want to try your hand at clam- 
ming, do you!” said Marvin Blaisdell. 

Such was the friendly response the boys got 
when they had stated their errand. They felt 
immediately drawn to the man. His lower face 
hidden in a white beard, his eyes and brow glowed 
with a kindliness and intelligence that accounted 
for his reputed success as a pearl fisher. 

“The boys visited the factories at Blair yester- 
day, where they heard of you,” explained Mr. 
Maclay. 

“And now they want to see something of the 
other end of the game, ’ ’ said the fisher, turning an 
indulgent eye on the Scouts. “It’s an honest 
game when you make it so — more than some — 
more than some — and profitable if you work hard. 
Well, now there’s my helper’s boat, and that extra 
one. Just get in and follow me, and do as I do, 
and I’ll warrant you’ll get something on j^our 
hooks.” 

Three Scouts in each square-ended, flat-bot- 
tomed boat (the scoutmaster went in the fisher’s 
boat) were soon out on the river. Each boat was 
fitted with stanchions on either side, on which lay 
bars of iron pipe, fringed with bent wire hooks 


54 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


on cords. One of these fringed bars was let down 
by its rope to the river ^s bottom. 

‘^This is the fisherman ^s ‘donkey,’ ” explained 
Slicky, taking up a bit^of canvas stretched on a 
frame. He set this contrivance in the water, down 
stream from the stem of the boat, and kept it 
upright by means of the ropes mn to each cor- 
ner. “That catches the current down deeper,” 
again explained Slicky, “and gives the current 
more pull on the hooks dragging over the bot- 
tom.” 

“I see you’ve got the idea,” called out Mr. 
Blaisdell. 

After a time the hooks were pulled aboard with 
their load of clams; and the other bar with its 
fringe of hooks was let down. Then while the 
new hooks were gathering, the hooked clams were 
pulled off. 

“Well, how do the clams get on I” queried the 
puzzled Bert. 

“That’s easy,” laughed Slicky. “You see, the 
clams are open on the bottom, and when a hook 
gets in between, the clam gets scared and shuts 
up, and so pinches the hook and hasn’t sense 
enough to let go.” 

When Mr. Blaisdell considered enough had been 
taken, the clams were set to heat in a large sheet- 
iron box, to make them open easily. Then the 
Scouts were set to work opening. 


THE PEAEL FISHEE’S STOEY 55 


‘‘Should any of you chance on a pearl, it’s 
yours,’’ said Mr. Blaisdell. “I hope you’ll be 
lucky. Keep a sharp eye. ” 

There came a long spell of eager search for 
pearls. “Guess I forgot to take along my ‘lucky 
stone,’ ” said Eay. 

“One a week would be a fine average,” observed 
Mr. Blaisdell. 

“Jiminy fishhooks!” said Eay. “I guess my 
week’s about up.” 

‘ ‘ Hurray I I ’ve got it ! ” finally came from Bert 
Hill; and he held forth his hand, showing a wee 
white bead. 

Mr. Blaisdell examined the gem under a pocket 
glass. 

“As pretty a little feller as they make,” he 
said. “I’m glad, my boy. Well, now you’ve got 
a souvenir.” 

Acquaintance ripens fast between those who 
work together. A common interest always helps. 
It came out when Mr. Blaisdell was told of the 
Scouts ’ home town. 

“And so you’re from Eiverton,” he said. 
“Well, I lived not far from your town more than 
forty years ago. It was quite different then, I can 
tell you. I wonder if you ever heard of the old 
Albright homestead, about ten miles up on the 
Iowa shore?” 

“Yes,” spoke up Wayne. “We were going to 


56 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


camp there in the woods this summer — a fine old 
brick house, and no one living in it. ’ ’ 

‘‘Just so — just so,^’ said Mr. Blaisdell. “Two 
hundred acres, and now worth over $20,000. And 
I reckon there ’s no one now living knows the story 
of that place so well as 1.’^ 

It took but little coaxing to get the old pearl 
fisher over to the Whippoorwill for supper, and to 
tell his story. Wayne and Slicky got the dishes 
out of the way, and all assembled about the table. 

The Peakl Fisher’s Story 

I don’t just now mind the year, but it was some- 
thing like forty-two or three years ago. I had a 
shanty on the shore — Iowa side — some nine miles 
above your town, and close to the Albright home- 
stead. Old Hiram Albright had been dead only a 
few years, and his son John and his wife lived on 
the place. John was all there was left of the 
family, and his two hundred acres made him a fine, 
rich farm, though he didn’t have the “git up and 
git” to make the most of it. He was a little bit 
fond of drink — though he was never known to let 
it get all the best of him and he was always good 
natured. His wife was as fine a woman as you 
ever see — and she’s still living, poor old soul! 
Living in the next town — Port Stevens — with his 
sister to keep house, was a Thomas Britton, one 


THE PEARL FISHER’S STORY 57 


of those younger sons of a great English family, 
sent from home with his pile, which he soon spent. 
Some trouble at home. And his sister, much de- 
voted to him, followed him over. When I first 
made his acquaintance he was living on his sis- 
ter ’s money. Knowing his faults, she dealt it out 
to him little by little. 

Britton liked to roam the woods, and enjoyed 
the river. There was no work in him. He liked 
to come to my shack and gossip. He was a great 
reader — romantic stuff — Scott, Dumas, Poe, and 
Hugo ; and he was fond of gaming. He was super- 
stitious, too — a fatalist. He said he was destined 
to own a great estate, equal to his brother’s. He 
confided to me that a g 3 ^sy had once read it in his 
hand. One morning he told me of a dream he’d 
had of owning the Albright place, and how in the 
dream he had remodeled the house; built great 
stables, and made a game park, and so on. 

Well, to come to my story: One night John Al- 
bright and Thomas Britton were in my shack — 
unhappy recollection that it is ! They were drink- 
ing gin and playing at cards. Albright, easy na- 
tured, tipped the glass more than usual ; and if he 
ever won a game I never saw it. Ah ! drinking 
and gaming have destroyed many a man! Brit- 
ton was always a sure winner. I don ’t know how 
it came about, but when I came in after a visit to 
the spring for a bucket of water, Albright had 


58 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


recklessly staked the Albright homestead — two 
hundred acres. 

In a few minutes it was lost. It was after mid- 
night, and the two rowed across the river to go to 
town. When Britton came back next day he 
showed me the deed. 

“My dream’s come true,” he said. “The Al- 
bright homestead’s mine — fair won.” 

It was as fair as a fight between a hawk and a 
reckless canary; but I hadn’t the sense to pro- 
test them 

From that time John Albright never touched 
liquor. He seemed to lose all his nerve, and never 
did weU. His wife never upbraided him, and she 
became the main-stay. They moved into a small 
house in Port Stevens ; and the widow Albright is 
there to this day, with her son and daughter ; but 
now with a bare hope to see her children back into 
their own before she dies. 

Tom Britton never had great comfort of the 
Albright homestead after he and his sister moved 
to it, as he has confessed to me, time and again. 
I began later to urge him to make restitution ; but 
though he showed there was some appeal in the 
thought, he always ended with the declaration, 
“But yet it was fair won.” I know, though, that 
that comfort was not in his heart. But the sister, 
Elizabeth, found the place much to her liking, and 
she became a strong consideration. 


THE PEARL FISHER’S STORY 59 


Both men came to my shack at times, but they 
always avoided one another, both conscious of 
guilt. 

I finally drifted away to Missouri, but al- 
ways kept in correspondence with Tom Britton, 
who seemed to cling to my friendship. He some- 
times started his letter with a determination to 
make the restitution I so often urged, but he al- 
ways wound up with the plea that it was fair won. 
His sister’s influence was strong with him, or, I 
believe, he would have done it long ago. And 
then a quarry was opened in the hills of the north- 
east comer, and brought in a good deal of money. 
It was hard to give up. 

But finally, near ten years ago, there came a 
letter from Tom Britton telling me of the death of 
John Albright. There was a good deal of feeling 
between the lines. ‘‘You will be glad to know,” 
ran the letter, “that I’ve done it. I’ve executed a 
deed to Albright ’s widow. I went to his grave the 
night after and told him what I ’d done. I ’ve put 
the deed in a safe place. And now, Blaisdell, I ’m 
going away soon, and when I ’m gone I ’ll write and 
ask you to inform the widow Albright, and tell her 
where to find the deed of transfer. ’ ’ 

You see, he was afraid of his sister, Elizabeth, 
and wanted to be away when she found out what 
he had done. The next time I got a letter of Tom 
Britton, he was in Idaho. But he was not quite 


60 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


ready yet to have the widow Albright told. Then, 
near a year later, he sent me a paper on which was 
some secret writing — a cryptography I think they 
call it. ‘‘This points the way to the deed,^^ his 
letter said. “I’m not so well, and I want to get 
this to you. I’ll send you the key soon, so you can 
read it. I’m afraid they’ll drive Elizabeth away, 
and I guess she hasn’t much laid away now, and 
it would go hard with her.” 

That was the last letter I ever got of him; and 
my letter to him came back. I was living near 
Hannibal at the time. Well, I finally packed my 
bag and traveled to Port Stevens to see his sister. 
On my arrival I was surprised to learn that she 
had been a month in her grave. But among her 
effects was found correspondence relating to Tom 
Britton’s death in California; though not a thing 
was to be found that might bear the key to that 
secret writing. The home was closed, and the es- 
tate was in the hands of the probate court, and was 
expected to go to the rich English relatives. 
Twenty-five thousand dollars was conservative 
value put on it at appraisal. One thousand dol- 
lars was John Albright’s modest figure at the 
time he lost it at cards in my shack, thirty-five 
years before. 

I went to the widow Albright, in her humble 
cottage, and placed Britton’s last letter and the 
cryptograph in her hands. Tears of joy came into 


THE PEAEL FISHER STORY 61 


her eyes when she read. ‘‘It’s God’s work,” she 
said. “God put it into the man to do that. My 
children will at last come into their own.” 

Though I was sorry to put any damper on her 
hopes, “But, madam, we haven’t the key to the 
secret writing,” I told her. “Yes,” she said, 
“but God has done so much. He will in His own 
good time make it plain; the deed will come to 
light. Bless you for your share,” she said. 

She has two children; a girl, Therese, of nine- 
teen, and a boy, James, now fifteen. I have been 
in correspondence with the son since. He tells 
me the trustees of the estate employed help on the 
cryptograph, but no one could make it out. “But 
mother says it will come, ’ ’ he says in his letter. 

I earnestly wish it might be so. I cannot forget 
that the ill transaction took place in my shack, and 
that I failed to interfere in time to prevent. The 
recovery of that grand old place would mean so 
much to the young folks, and, perhaps, give peace 
to the spirits of those who have gone before. 
There are those who sav that Tom Britton’s spirit 
haunts that fine old house in the woods, which still 
stands as staunch and beautiful as in its early 
days. 

Wayne was an eager and sympathetic listener. 
He experienced a strong yearning to lend a hand 
at this thing. There must be some way to solve 


62 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


that secret writing, and so to turn back that valu- 
able property to those to whom it rightfully be- 
longed. 

The Scouts bade good-by to Marvin Blaisdell, 
and all were regularly in their bunks and lights 
out by nine-thirty. 


CHAPTER VI 


EAY AND SLICKY PLAY AT LUNATICS 

LL out at six. Ray and Leslie, as cooks 



for the day, got breakfast; Bert and Joe 


^ took their turn as boatswain ^s crew and 
washed down the decks and swept out, with the 
help of Wayne and Slicky, coxswain’s crew, who 
also looked to the condition of the two skiffs. 
Colors went up at eight, when the boatswain’s 
crew were at the sweeps, getting the Whippoor- 
will into the Mississippi’s current. 

‘^Oh, reservoir! Beaver Island,” called Ray. 
Phil let out a war whoop to express his joy; for 
the day was fine, though growing hot, and the 
river shores, fringed with cottonwoods, willows, 
sycamores, and birches, gave forth the cheerful 
calls of brown thrushes, tee-wits, black birds, and 
blue jays. 

All climbed to the hurricane deck, where the 
scoutmaster unrolled his chart of the river, and 
pointed out the various features that were creep- 
ing by before their eyes, identifying the markings 
on the map — islands, sand bars, dams, creek 
mouths, lights, and so on. 

There on the right, if you use your glasses. 


63 


64 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


you can see this light marked here. Each has its 
name and number. If a pilot discovers a light 
out, or dim, he reports to the light-house inspector 
by postcard. That light we just passed on the 

left is ‘No , Opposite Foot of Beaver Island.’ 

Over there, on the left, about where you see those 
oak trees, there should be a day mark. There it 
appears, below that woodyard. You see it’s 
painted white. The old-time pilots had no such 
helps; they had to know the river’s turns, bars, 
and peculiarities as you know your own streets at 
home.” 

A little after ten, the house-boat rounded a bend 
into view of a steamer coming up the channel. 

“Why, they’re steering right toward us,” said 
Charles Manners, presently. 

As the steamer drew near, the passengers exhib- 
ited unusual interest in the house-boat. Even the 
pilot stuck a smiling face out of the pilot-house. 
The captain leaned on the rail and called out : 

“The steamer Eagle sends her compliments, 
and wishes the Whippoorwill a pleasant voyage — 
and so do we. ’ ’ 

The scoutmaster had hardly waved a “Many 
thanks” when the steamer’s crew rang out “Three 
cheers for the Boy Scouts!” The passengers 
waved ’kerchiefs as the Scout® gave back the 
shrill, ‘ ‘ Whip-poor-wi-11 ! ’ ’ 

“Looks like the Eagle has been advertising the 


EAY AND SLICKY PLAY LUNATICS 65 


Whippoorwill down river,’’ said Mr. Maclay. 

Then immediately a town loomed up, three miles 
below, on the left. Ray spoke: 

‘ ‘ The cooks ’ outfit needs some raisins, and some 
brown sugar for syrup.” 

‘^Well, Wayne,” said the scoutmaster, ‘^you’re 
coxswain to-day ; you’re at liberty to row the stew- 
ard to shore for provisions. Better get a good 
start of us; we’re now hardly three miles above 
town. ’ ’ 

So Wayne and Slicky took their places at the 
oars in one of the skiffs, giving Ray a place on the 
stem thwart. Leaving the Whippoorwill to fol- 
low leisurely, down the river, the skiff shot for- 
ward under the stiff pull of the oars. It was not 
long till the boat passed under the railroad bridge 
and put its prow on the shore at Harrisburg. 

Slicky stayed by the boat while Ray and Wayne 
made their way up toward the stores. They had 
no sooner got under way, however, than a crowd 
of boys began to collect on their trail. They were 
a pretty rough appearing set, and it began to 
seem to Wayne and Ray that they were little 
likely to make their trip in much comfort. 

‘‘Look at the tin soldiers! — ^Where’s your 
guns?” jeered one of the boys. They began to 
press around close and blocked the Scouts’ way. 

“They wouldn’t let me have a gun at the asy- 
lum,” said Ray. “ — ’fraid I’d get one of my 


66 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


spells and kill somebody. These are asylum 
clothes ; they took my own away — I don T mind it. ’ ^ 

‘^Aw, what are you givin’ us!’’ said one of the 
mob. 

Eay murmured into Wayne’s ear: ‘‘I’m going 
to throw a fit — back me up.” And with that his 
eyes began to take on a horrid stare into vacancy ; 
his mouth twisted into a sardonic grin, and his 
fingers curled, claw-like. 

“Look out, fellows!” warned Wayne, and he 
seized Ray by the arm and began hurriedly to 
march him up the street. 

Wayne’s warning “look out” was hardly 
needed, for the crowd had already begun to scat- 
ter, some looking on from safe distances, till the 
two disappeared in the nearest grocery. 

While they were making their purchases, a 
crowd collected outside the store windows, includ- 
ing grown-ups. And after a little, a police officer 
strolled in. When he sighted the boys he smiled 
good naturedly. 

“Have those boys been annoying you?” he said. 

His face took on a broad grin, when Wayne ex- 
plained the situation. 

The way was clear when Wayne and Ray made 
their way back toward the river shore. 

‘ ‘ Golly ! where ’s Slicky ? ’ ’ said Ray. 

There was no sight of either boat or Slicky; for 
Slicky had attracted his share of the attention of 


EAY AND SLICKY PLAY LUNATICS 67 

the wharf -rats as well. A half dozen collected 
around the boat and began to jeer Slicky, who soon 
became aroused to the fighting point. But in 
addition to the fact that the odds were greatly 
against him, he knew his scoutmaster’s mind on 
such matters. He was beginning to consider 
pushing the boat off from shore to avoid the tor- 
mentors, when one of them spoke up thus : 

‘ ‘ Say, give us a boat-ride. ’ ’ 

‘ H ’d be glad to accommodate you, ’ ’ said Slicky, 
trying to smile, ^‘but I’m under orders.” 

^‘Well, we’ll give you orders,” said the largest 
of the crowd. ‘^Pile in, kids. — Now you row us.” 

“Sure,” said Slicky, taking his oars into hand, 
and trying to look pleasant the while he gritted 
his teeth. How he was to rid himself of this crew 
he had no guess. 

“Eow acrost to the island,” said the bully, a 
chap who looked to be not less than twenty. 

A wee little fellow in the boat pulled one of the 
boys over and began a hoarse whispering in his 
ear. 

“Say, Budd, them’s all ‘bug-house’ guys. One 
o’ them other two got a spell, and all the kids 
runned — an ’ I runned too. ’ ’ 

Slicky ’s alert ear caught the gist of the commu- 
nication, and easily guessed Eay’s maneuver. 
“Good idea,” he said to himself. 

The skiff finally touched the island shore. The 


68 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


boys scrambled out. ‘‘Let’s see if the raspberries 
are ripe yet,” said one. 

“Now you got to come along,” ordered the 
bully, addressing Slicky. 

But Slicky, who tarried by the boat, now had 
another idea ; and he reached down and took up a 
short stave of drift-wood, at the same time rolling 
his eyes and contorting his face in a manner hor- 
rible. 

“Look out!” called out the little boy. “He’s 
a bug-house guy — he’s gettin’ a spell like that 
other one. ’ ’ 

Slicky sent out a fearful yell, and he brandished 
his cudgel as the boys fell back. When they had 
retreated, as he thought, far enough for his pur- 
poses, suddenly he turned and gave the skiff a 
shove from shore and scrambled in. 

But the stern struck a sunken log, retarding it ; 
so that the big bully, who rushed for the boat, was 
able to jump in as the bow swung close to shore. 
The bully made for Slicky, who quickly squatted 
and seized the big fellow by the ankle, jerking his 
foot from under him. The bully toppled over the 
edge of the boat into the water, and Slicky seized 
an oar and pushed the boat clear before the doused 
rough could grasp it. 

Then Slicky pulled away rapidly under fire of 
a hail of stones, soon arriving where Wayne and 
Eay waited at the shore. 


EAY AND SLICKY PLAY LUNATICS 69 


‘‘Well, what have you been up to, SlickyU’ said 
Wayne. 

Slicky told of his adventures as they rowed 
toward the house-boat, now just passing under the 
bridge. 

“Cracky! you had more fun than we did,” said 
Eay, looking toward the group on the island shore. 
“Those chumps will have to hike back on the 
bridge — I’ll bet the big kid that got soaked has wet 
a nettle all right — all right. ’ ’ 

“He sure said some things that wasn’t dry,” 
said Slicky, as he lay to his oars. 

As the three sweating Scouts neared the Whip- 
poorwill, Phil called out from the hurricane deck: 

“Was you fellows running a ferry down there?” 

“Aw, no,” returned Eay. “Slicky just rowed 
a crowd of church folks over to see him baptize 
a feller.” 

“We couldn’t see with our glasses just what 
was going on,” said Phil, “but it sure looked like 
some one was in swimming with his clothes on.” 

“I reckon he’s got religion now.” Eay was 
climbing to the after deck with his packages, and 
looking over to the island, added, “That’s him — 
the big fellow.” 

Wayne hadn’t finished his report to the scout- 
master when there came a din of a stick on a tin 
pan from below, and Eay’s voice calling, “First 
call to dinner in the dining car I ’ ’ 


70 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘Sorry dinner a little late/^ apologized Bay, 
as all but Joe took their places, “but Slicky just 
had to have his baptism/’ 

‘ ‘ Say, Bay, ’ ’ said Phil, hesitating over another 
helping of corned beef hash, “what was the raisins 
for?” 

“Well, if you want to know,” said Bay, “it’s 
bread puddin’ — for supper. But not for dinner 
and supper, both.” 

“No more hash for me,” said Phil, putting 
down the dish. “Think I’ll try some of those 
‘sitting-up’ exercises before supper.” 

“You’ll set up some, and be noticing, when you 
taste my bread puddin ’, ’ ’ said Bay. ‘ ‘ Bread pud- 
din ’s my specialty — next to flap-jacks.” 

A crash of thunder sent Bert after Joe’s slicker 
and sou ’-wester. Soon the wind bore down from 
the west and drove rain drops hard against the 
window; and presently Joe called in to Bert to 
say that the wind was driving the boat toward 
shore. 

‘ ‘ Throwing her on a lee shore, ’ ’ corrected Bay. 
“Talk ‘Jack-tar,’ why don’t you?” 

Joe and Bert were at the sweeps — “Bucking 
the wind,” Bay said they were doing. But the 
storm didn ’t last many minutes, and the sun broke 
out on the freshened green foliage that decorated 
the river shores, and set a rainbow over the river, 
back upstream. 


EAY AND SLICKY PLAY LUNATICS 71 


The Scouts saw something new and interesting 
every minute, as the Whippoorwill moved lei- 
surely between the shores: fishermen running 
their lines, who called and waved a greeting; 
where a field encroached on the river bank, a 
farmer digging potatoes stopped to lean on his 
fork and gaze; a pleasure party in a grove with 
music and dancing; a steamboat passing up- 
stream; pearl fishers with their fringes of hooks, 
from which they pulled the catch of clams. At 
four, Joe and Bert got the house-boat to the right 
shore, one threw a rope end to land and the other 
made fast to a tree. Then Slicky and Wayne 
gathered wood and all scattered out for a bit of 
exploring before bread-pudding time. 

Eay and Leslie began their business in the 
galley early, — and when came the toot of the horn 
at six. Scouts raced in from various directions. 
A quick wash, and all but PhiPs place soon had 
its regular occupant. 

‘‘Where’s Phil?” said the scoutmaster. 

“You can believe me,” said Eay, coaxing a 
savory something out of the oven, “he’s busy 
somewhere rearranging cargo — ^making a place to 
stow away puddin’.” 

Charles Manners poked his head out of the door. 
“Here, you cow’s tail, the puddin ’s getting cold,” 
he called. And he turned to report that Phil was 
over on shore chinning himself on a willow limb. 


72 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Phil arrived to find the immense dish close to 
his plate — a beautiful brown top to it, with raisins 
peeking temptingly out. He looked about won- 
deringly to see himself the center of interest of 
the patiently waiting Scouts. 

‘‘Get busy, Phil,^’ smiled Leslie, “wedl take 
whaUs left.” 


CHAPTER Vn 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE 

W AYNE hadn’t been long asleep when 
be was awakened by tbe pattering on 
tbe hurricane deck of a heavy shower. 
He heard the clock striking eleven before he again 
dropped off in sleep. Without, the clouds still 
hung, making the river very dark ; even the wind 
seemed to have gone to sleep again. The ticking 
of the clock, and the tranquil breathing of the 
Scouts were the only evidences of life about the 
Whippoorwill, 

The clock’s wheels set up the peculiar whirring, 
preparatory to tolling the midnight hour, when 
there came a break in the outside quiet. A very 
dusky figure appeared out of the woods; and 
from it came the sound of panting, as from hard 
running. It climbed aboard the Whippoorwill, 
and directly was stooped, fumbling with the chain 
painter of one of the skiffs. 

Wayne opened his eyes and raised his head in 
a listening attitude, disturbed by the rattle of the 
chain. Jumping to the floor, he hurried out on 
the forward deck, when his ear caught the sound 
of oars out on the river. He ran down the side 

73 


74 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


passage to the stern, and a quick look discovered 
to him that one of the skiffs was missing. 

He got back in the bunk-room to find the scout- 
master, Slicky, and Joe astir. 

‘^Some one has stolen one of the skiffs, he re- 
ported. 

Wayne, Slicky, Joe, and Bert slipped on trous- 
ers and shoes. Wayne got out his bicycle lamp, 
and in a very few minutes the four Scouts were in 
the remaining skiff, rowing across the river in 
pursuit, though unable to see many yards ahead 
in the dark. 

When they had come to about the middle, they 
heard the rattle of a chain — straight ahead. 

‘‘They’re landing,” said Joe. 

“I think it’s on the tow-head,” said Wayne. 

Very soon the Scouts’ boat touched the sand- 
bar that lay off the tow-head. The stolen skiff, 
abandoned, showed near by. Wayne threw a ray 
of light on the sand. 

“There are tracks of only one,” he said. 

‘ ‘ Big shoes — I ’ll bet he ’s black, ’ ’ offered Slicky. 

“Bert, you better stay by the boats,” said 
Wayne. 

The search-light followed the trail up among 
the trees. The foot-prints, far apart, showing 
haste, went straight through to the Illinois side 
of the little island. 

“He might have a gun,” suggested Joe. 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE 


75 


‘‘I don’t think he’d shoot,” said Wayne. 

The trail struck up along the farther shore to 
the upper end of the isle, where it entered the 
water. But, a foot away, foot prints showed that 
the culprit had come out again; and the trail 
pointed back in among the trees, and presently 
ended at the foot of a large cottonwood. 

Wayne threw the light upward, and the Scouts 
could discern a dark, irregular mass, high, and 
close against the tree trunk. 

‘HleUo, up there,” said Wayne. 

There was neither response nor movement. 

‘‘No use hiding; we can see you, against the 
trunk,” called Wayne. 

Then there was movement in the object, and 
there came, in tones of terror : 

“Oh, lordy! Please, sah. Ah — Ah ain’t done 
nothin’ — Please — ” 

“What did you steal our boat for!” said Wayne. 

“Oh, lordy! — Mistah Blownt, he ain’t down 
thah!” 

“There isn’t any Mr. Blount here,” said Wayne. 
“Come on down here.” 

The terrified darkey began to descend. 

“Ah ain’t no bad niggah,” he wailed. “Ah 
didn’ mean to steal you-all’s boat. Ah was jes’ 
gettin’ away to save mah life. Ah didn’ steal 
dose chickens. Dey tink Ah stole ’em — and dey 
hangs me shuah ef dey notches me. Mistah 


76 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Blownt, he doan’ give no niggah no show foh his 
life. Please, you-all, doan’ let ’em git me !” 

He dropped from the lowest limb to the ground, 
and Wayne’s light illumined the black face of a 
negro, about twenty. 

‘Hf you didn’t steal anything, what were you 
running away for?” questioned Wayne. 

‘‘Oh, lordy ! dey doan’ give no niggah no chainst 
foh his life — Mistah Blownt, he fum way down 
south. Dey hangs me shuah, ef dey cotches me, 
jes’ becase dey tink I steal dem chickens. Please 
doan’ let ’em git me! — Dey’s dat houn, now. 
Oh, lordy! dey’s cornin’ — Please, sah.” 

The baying of a blood-hound could be heard, 
coming from the Iowa shore, beyond the house- 
boat. 

Wayne considered a moment. 

“We’ll try to help you,” said he, “if you don’t 
try to run away till we find out for sure.” 

“Oh, yes, sah. Ah won’t run, sah. Please, 
sah ! ’ ’ pleaded the poor black man. 

“He might come down to the Whippoorwill/* 
suggested Slicky. 

“Yes,” said Wayne, when Slicky suggested 
that the negro be taken down to the house-boat. 
And he led the way to the edge of the woods. 

The sound of the baying dog came steadily 
nearer. 

Wayne covered the lamp with his hat, and then 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE 


77 


let forth a number of flashes in quick succession. 
Almost at once came flashes from the house-boat, 
in reply. Then Wayne flashed a message. 

When Wayne and his crew rowed away, the 
scoutmaster aroused Ray, Leslie, Charles and 
Phil. 

^‘WhaUs up?’’ said Ray. 

Mr. Maclay explained, and then sent the boys 
up on the hurricane deck with a lighted lantern 
to guide Wayne on his return. 

They got an occasional glimpse of Wayne’s 
light across the water, and they watched, suffering 
some with suspense. ‘‘Golly! I wish I knew 
what’s doing over there,” said Phil. Then, 
finally, Ray detected Wayne’s signal, and an- 
swered. 

“Here comes a message,” he said. “Take it 
down, Leslie.” And he read it off: “Dash dot 
dot, dash dash dash, dash dot; dash dash dot,” 
and so on. 

Presently Leslie read aloud the interpreted mes- 
sage. “Don’t give any information,” it said. 

“That’s queer— who to?” said the puzzled Ray. 
But he signaled back “0 K.” 

The tones of the baying hound— to which they’d 
given no heed — were drawing near. 

‘ ‘ I wonder what that blood hound ’s up to now ? ’ ’ 
said Leslie. 


78 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘It may be a man hunt,’’ suggested Mr. Maclay, 
now come on the scene. 

‘ ‘ Ah, sure ! ’ ’ said Phil. ‘ ‘ That ’s how the boat ’s 
gone.” 

“If that’s so — looks like Wayne’s mixed in,” 
said Ray. 

“Well,” mused the scoutmaster, “I suppose 
Wayne has some good reason for his message. 
We haven’t time to ask him anything about it, 
for that dog is getting very near. We’ll go be- 
low. ’ ’ 

In another minute the baying hound was heard 
on the river bank. 

“Now,” said Mr. Maclay, “you boys take the 
light into the galley ; and you, Ray, you deal with 
them if they come here — I’m sure that hound isn’t 
alone. If it becomes necessary I’ll interfere.” 

So the scoutmaster settled down in the fore 
cabin, in the dark; and the Scouts went into the 
galley, and on the moment, the sound of tramp- 
ing feet could be heard on the after deck. 

The door was thrown open unceremoniously, 
and there stepped boldly in a tall, lean man — 
mustached — holding the hound by a leash, and 
followed by two younger men, carrying guns. 
There was a moment of quiet as this man, and 
Ray — who had stepped forward — gazed at one 
another. The man’s manner was as unceremoni- 
ous as his unbidden entry. Ray made an exhibi- 


A NIGHT ADVENTUEE 79 

tion of astonishment, as he knew well how to do. 

‘‘Where's thet niggah?" demanded the man. 

“Gentlemen usually knock," said Eay. “I 
hope you wiped your feet." 

“Where's thet niggah?" said the other, in a 
high tone. 

“Yes, where's thet niggah?" mocked Eay, both 
his tone and manner quite serene. ‘ ‘ Who knows ? ' ' 

The man was evidently taken aback by Eay's 
assured manner, for he seemed for the moment 
at a loss for words. 

“Did you suppose we'd stolen your niggah?" 
again spoke up Eay. 

“Thet niggah stole my chickens, an' I can see 
you-all ain't meanin’ to let on as he's here. This 
here houn' don't make no mistake, an’ I'm goin' 
to look through this here boat. ' ' 

“Then show us your search warrant," said Eay. 

“I reckon I got all the search warrant I need 
in my hip pocket. I always carries a search war- 
rant," And reaching for the lantern held by one 
of his comrades, he said, “Come on, boys, we'll 
get thet niggah." 

“Just hold there, sir!" Mr. Maclay stepped 
into the galley, and there was fire in his eye. 
“Now, sir, I have to inform you that you are 
trespassing contrary to law. I warn you, if you 
force yourself on us in this violent way. I'll see 
that you pay the full penalty provided." 


80 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


It was plain to be seen the intruder was con- 
scious that he had now to deal with some one 
likely to prove his master. He hesitated. 

‘Hf you approached us with ordinary civility/’ 
continued Mr. Maclay, ‘‘you would find us willing 
enough to allow you search; and it may yet be 
that we will allow you examination of our prem- 
ises, if you make a proper request. ’ ’ 

“I reckon as maybe how I been a little hasty,” 
said the man; “but thet chicken stealin’ has got 
me all riled up. ’ ’ 

It ended with the scoutmaster’s having Ray 
lead the man all about the boat, thus satisfying 
him that his chicken thief was not aboard. 

“I reckon he swimmed the river,” finally spoke 
the man, as the three and the hound jumped 
ashore, the hound abandoning the trail with re- 
luctance. 

Wayne and his crew, with the darky, in the 
meantime, waited and watched. 

“They’re getting aboard the Whippoorwill 
now,” said Wayne, observing the lantern light, 
across the river. 

“Why did you land on this tow-head?” asked 
Slicky of the black fellow. 

“Ah reckoned as how Ah was on Hick’ry Island, 
an’ Ah could git to shore ’cross de dam,” returned 
the darkey. 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE 81 

‘^WhaUs it all about?” questioned Wayne. 
“What — tell us how it happened.” 

The fugitive told his story. 

“Dey’s been a chicken stole ouUn Mistah 
BlownUs chicken coop every night foh five o’ six 
nights, an’ dey say some niggah done hit; an’ 
Ah see ’um lookin’ at me jes’ like Ah been de 
one. Den dis night Ah goes to see mah ‘Lisbet’ 
Ann, an’ when Ah’s on de way home an’ gits nigh 
to de Blownt place, Ah hear’s a chicken commo- 
tion ovah by de chicken house. Ah says to mah- 
self, ‘Dis ain’t no place foh dis niggah.’ But 
foh Ah git mah senses c’llected to run, up jumps 
dat Jake Blownt, right in de road. Den Ah lets 
out a holler, an’ Ah dives in de bushes an’ runs 
de bes’ Ah knows how foh de ribber. Ah knows 
w’en dey hear mah voice dey got it figured out 
who Ah is, an’ dey hang me shuah if dey cotches 
me.” 

“Are you sure you wasn’t dreaming and got 
your fingers on that chicken?” said the half skep- 
tical Slicky. 

“Lordy! no, sah, Ah ain’t dat kin’ ob a nig- 
gah, ’ ’ declared the newly terrified darky. ‘ ‘ Hit ’s 
de Gospel truf, what Ah teUs yo’. Ah nebber 
stole no chickens in mah life.” 

“I believe him,” said Joe. 

“They’re going now,” spoke Wayne. “There 
goes the lantern.” 


82 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Then in a few minutes came Ray’s signal, and 
the message, “Visitors gone.” 

“OK,” flashed back Wayne. “To the boats,” 
he then ordered. 

The Scouts were soon aboard the Whippoor- 
will, and Wayne responded to the questioning look 
of the scoutmaster with a full report. 

Mr. Maclay called the darky forward and cross- 
questioned him, the black fellow repeating a 
straightforward story. 

The scoutmaster then drew Wayne aside. 
“Well, Wayne,” he began, “we have a right to 
shield him from those men’s violence; but if they 
should swear out a warrant for him (which I 
hardly believe likely — it’s not their way) we can’t 
shield him from the law.” 

“But he’s innocent!” declared Wayne. 

“That won’t help him here, I’m afraid,” said 
Mr. Maclay. ‘ ‘ There are enough of them to swear 
they saw him at the hen-house — and you know the 
prejudice.” 

Wayne then declared his conviction that there 
must be some way to make right prevail, and 
wanted to stay over a day and try for it. To this 
the scoutmaster agreed. 


CHAPTER VIII 


ON THE TEAH. OF THE CHICKEN THIEF 

I N spite of the break in their rest, the Scouts 
of the house-boat Whippoorivill were out of 
their bunks at the regular hour, six. Wayne 
and Slicky, as boatswain’s crew ‘‘washed down” 
the decks; Ray and Leslie overhauled ropes, to 
be used for towing purposes; and the darky — 
George Mackinac Jackson he said was his name — 
assisted Charles Manners and Phil Conger in the 
galley. 

And then after breakfast four in the skiffs 
tugging hard at the oars, and four laying to the 
sweeps, the Whippoorwill was worked across the 
river to the tow-head. This new mooring was 
made to discourage any idea the black fellow 
might have of running off, till something should 
result from the efforts that were to be made in 
his behalf, and as to be more out of the way of 
possible additional visits from Blount and com- 
pany. 

Wayne requested of George Mackinac Jackson 
directions for finding the Blount place. 

“De bestes’ way — yo’ cuts ’crost dem woods 

83 


84 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


tells yo’ comes to de railroad, an^ den yo’ toilers 
de track tells yo’ come to a road, an^ yo’ toilers 
de road back to wbar de road hits de cross road, 
an ’ yo ’ comes to Mistah Blownt ’s place. ^ ^ 

Slicky, Bay and Leslie accompanied Wayne. 
They rowed to shore, and atter a two-mile walk 
over the route described by the darky, they ar- 
rived at the Blount home; a plain, unpainted 
house, in an unkept yard, enclosed by a tence 
much out ot repair. Mr. Blount appeared in the 
yard as the Scouts approached. 

‘‘We came over to see it we couldn’t help get 
the trail ot that chicken thiet,” explained Wayne. 

“Git on his trail!” Blount grinned depreciat- 
ingly. 

Wayne ignored the man’s scoffing tone. 
‘ ‘ W ould you mind showing us the chicken-house f ’ ’ 
he said. 

‘ ‘ Shore ! ’ ’ agreed Blount. And he led the way 
to a corner ot the barn. “They ain’t no use o’ 
you-all tryin’; thet houn’ never makes no mis- 
takes. Thet trail leads right down to you-all ’s 
boat. ’ ’ 

Wayne and Slicky were examining the ground 
about the little square hole in the side ot the 
chicken-house, used by the towls to go in and out. 

“How many chickens were stolen at a time?” 
said Wayne. 

“One every night toh five nights,” said Mr. 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE THIEF 85 


Blount. ‘^One^s a right smart mess foh even a 
niggah at one time.’’ 

^^Did you ever find the chicken-house door open 
in the morning?” asked Wayne. 

“No, he always shet the do’ aU right — I reckon 
so’s we wouldn’ notice.” 

“Are there any dogs in the neighborhood that 
might take chickens?” said Wayne. 

“Dogs!” said the man. “No, they ain’t no 
dogs here-abouts as ’U tech no chickens. Hit was 
thet Jackson niggah all right^ — ^we seen ’im.” 

“Did you see him at the chicken-house?” ven- 
tured Slicky, “and did you see him have a 
chicken ? ’ ’ 

“We seen him enough — ^we mighty soon settles 
thet when we lays ban’s on thet ’ar niggah!” 
Blount became a bit vicious in his manner. 

“Where did you put the hound on the trail?” 
said Wayme. 

“Why right whar we seen ’im — out m the road ! 
Whar else?” argued Blount. 

Wayne and Slicky exchanged looks. 

“I’ll bet we can beat that trailing,” declared 
Slicky. 

The man laughed. “Ef you-all kin show me 
you kin beat thet trailin’, you kin hev your pick 
o’ six o’ my chickens — I sticks to thet! You kids 
has got heaps to learn.” With that he left the 
Scouts to their self -assumed task. 


86 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘lUs a good thing it rained yesterday/^ said 
Wayne. 

‘‘Now look here,’^ began the hitherto quiet, be- 
cause puzzled, Ray, “put us wise. I can’t figure 
out your game.” 

Wayne pointed to the ground. 

“Well, that’s a dog’s footmarks,” said Ray, 
“that doesn’t help any.” 

“That’s your chicken thief,” said Wayne. 
“The same paw marks are on the timber under 
the hole that opens into the chicken-house — and 
see the feathers ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” assented Ray, “but a dog can’t climb 
up on a roost. ’ ’ 

Wayne and Slicky, heads down, had begun to 
follow the foot marks, and were soon in the high 
grass, where the trail was lost. But Slicky soon 
called from the near-by fence : 

“Here! He came out here and cut across the 
road.” 

On the other side of the road the trail entered a 
wood, where the ground was low and soft, and the 
grass scanty; so Wayne and Slicky found little 
difficulty in seeing the animal’s marks on the 
ground. Ray and Leslie followed close behind 
the others, and the procession went on in a north- 
easterly direction, presently crossing the road by 
which they had come up from the river. Then, 
soon, the trail led out of the woods into a little 


ON THE TEAIL OF THE THIEF 87 


stretch of open prairie, where the grass was lux- 
uriant, thus offering poor ground for paw-prints. 
But for a little stretch, the bending down of the 
grass showed the way the animal had gone, and 
the Scouts pressed forward. Then they came 
upon higher ground and shorter grass, and all 
signs disappeared. 

“Well, he was going that way,’^ said Wayne. 
“Slickj^ you go ahead and see if you can^t pick 
up the trail, and we’ll stay here so’s not to lose 
it.” 

Slicky went forward about sixty yards, and 
then called to the others. 

“There’s a feather,” he said, when they came 
up, “and I can see where he’s been through the 
grass.” 

And so it continued for nearly a mile; some- 
times the signs were plain, at others the trail 
petered out, and Wayne or Slicky went ahead to 
pick it up again. 

Then they came to a creek with wooded banks, 
where the trail was easy to follow, as it led down 
along the stream. It vanished at a tree fallen 
across the creek, but search on the farther side 
discovered it again. It continued to lead the 
Scouts down the stream to within a short distance 
of the Mississippi, and to a spot where stood a 
little old crumbling shack on the creek bank. 
Here the paw marks disappeared under one side 


88 BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 

of the structure, where the ground had fallen 
away. 

‘ ‘ He ’s under there ! ’ ’ declared Kay. ‘ ‘ And look 
at the feathers!’^ 

Wayne fell to examining the paw tracks, which 
were very plentiful here. Slicky picked up some 
few red hairs under the edge of the shanty, which 
he silently showed to Wayne. Wayne in return 
pointed to the tracks in the clay. ‘‘Those are no 
dog marks, he murmured, and then added, 
“We ^11 not tell the fellows yet.’^ 

A careful examination of the shack led to these 
conclusions : that there was a cellar ; that the ani- 
mal had his lair there; and that there was but 
one opening by which he could enter and exit. 

“How do you know he’s in there?” questioned 
Leslie. 

“Well,” began Wayne, “the tracks show that 
he has gone only one way since the rain (some 
time before midnight it was) and the way he went 
was in. And the fresh feathers show he had a 
chicken. So we’ve got him dead to rights; he’s 
sure there.” 

“Well, how are you going to get him?” said 
Leslie. 

“I’m going to see the Scoutmaster about that,” 
returned Wayne. “If you and Slicky will stay 
and keep him in, Ray and I’ll go to the Whippoor- 
will and fix up something. ’ ’ 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE THIEF 89 


‘Hf mister dog comes poking his head out of 
the hole, licking his chops, charged Ray, “you 
just teU him to go way back and sit down on his 
tail tiU we bring him a cure. ^ ’ 

It was but a short hike down to the skitf, so 
Wayne and Ray yere soon aboard the house-boat, 
telling Mr. Maclay the story of their success. 

“So you want to catch Mr. Chicken Thief 
alive,’’ said the Scoutmaster. “He’ll hardly 
make a useful member of society, but let’s have a 
try.” 

A half hour’s search along the river shore pro- 
duced all the lumber Mr. Maclay needed. And 
then began the construction of a box trap for 
Mister Thief. While the carpentering went on 
dinner was in preparation, and presently Joe 
Hunt and Bert Hill were sent to relieve Slicky 
and Leslie on watch at the shack up the creek. 

In less than two hours the trap was finished: 
a long box with guillotine doors at the ends, which 
were weighted and hung by ropes, each to the end 
of a separate lever — like an old-fashioned well- 
sweep — set above the box. The two levers met 
over the middle of the structure, and from these 
ends there went ropes down through holes in the 
box to a figure 4 trap. A light board was so sus- 
pended within that a few pounds’ weight would 
bring its end down on the figure 4 and spring it, 
and so release the levers, which, in turn, w^ould 


90 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


allow the weighted doors at either end of the box 
to fall and close the box tight. 

When the trap had been placed in the skiff 
and all was ready to set out for the chicken thief’s 
lair, Eay was given permission to tell the good 
news to the darky. He entered the galley to find 
the black face all mussed up with white flour. 
He was busy with rolling pie-crust, soon to be 
stuffed with blackberries. 

“Look here, you George Mackinac Jackson,” 
began Eay, “we’re off to catch that chicken thief 
friend of yours. We’ve got him cornered in an 
old haunted house up the creek. Now what do 
you think of that?” 

The darky showed his white teeth. ^ ‘ Oh, lordy ! 
Is dat sure ’nuff, w’at you say?” 

“Honest Injun!” assured Eay. 

“Oh, my! ef mah pore li’l ’Lisbet’ Ann could 
only know dat! Ah knows she jes’ a-grievin’ her 
li’l heart right out o’ her.” 

“Where is your little ’Lisbeth Ann?” said Eay. 

“Jes’ down de road, nigh a mile othah side o’ 
Mistah Blownt’s place,” said George. 

Eay and Leslie were sent to summon Mr. Blount 
to the shack, so that he might convince himself 
of his error as to the identity of the thief; the 
rest made their way to the old shack up the creek, 
where J oe and Bert stood guard. 

Leslie and Eay found Mr. Blount seated on his 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE THIEF 91 


kitchen stoop, wiping out an old muzzle-loader 
shotgun. 

‘‘Howdy, boys,’’ said he; “well, hev you-all 
ketched thet chicken-thief ? ” he grinned his doubts, 
encouraged by Ray’s assumed appearance of non- 
suocess. 

“Our patrol leader,” said Ray, “sends his 
compliments and asks that you will come at once, 
down to the old shack, a little way up the creek. 
He’s hot on the trail.” 

“Thet old shack old Marvin Blaisdell used to 
live in,” mused Mr. Blount, drawing out his 
cleaning-rod. 

“Hid Marvin Blaisdell live there?” said the 
astonished Ray. 

“Yeh-a; he’s now somewhar up near Blair. 
Well, hit’s all fool business, an’ hit’s a good mile 
an’ a half to whar thet houn’ is ; but you kin tell 
your pa-trol leader — ^whatever thet is — ^thet we- 
all’ll soon be thar.” 

Ray and Leslie hurried on up the road to re- 
lieve the heart of George Mackinac Jackson’s “li’l 
’Lisbeth Ann.” Presently they espied a little 
tumble-down house on the right of the road, a 
black face appearing at the window at the bark- 
ing of a little black and white dog. As the Scouts 
entered the yard, a wonderfully big and round, 
black ball of a woman squeezed out through the 
door. 


92 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘Does Miss Elizabeth Ann live here!’^ said 
Bay. And he mischievously put on a funereal 
expression of face. 

“Yes, sah,’’ faltered the great three hundred 
pound ball; and, looking with scared eyes on the 
gloomy Bay, she went on : “ Fo ’ de Lord ^s sake ! 
don’ tell me no bad! — don’ yo’ tell me no bad!” 

“Is she at home?” said Bay, steadfastly hold- 
ing to his doleful aspect. 

“Yes, sah, dat’s me,” quickly returned the 
painfully expectant dark specimen of femininity. 

“Are you George Mackinac Jackson’s little 
Elizabeth Ann?” Bay was properly astounded, 
for he had expected to see a little black slip of a 
girl, knee high to a grasshopper. 

“Oh, tells me quick!” she wailed, “what it am 
’bout mah poor G’o’ge Mackinac! — Oh, Ah sees 
— sumpthin’ drefful has happened! — Ah jes’ 
knowed it — Oh, Ah knowed it! Please! sah, 
tells me quick!” 

“George Mackinac Jackson sends his compl — 
love to Miss ’Lisbet’ Ann,” said Bay, “and the 
message that he is well, and expects to be back 
by night, with his reputation clean as a snow- 
drift on a church steeple.” 

She took a moment for realization, then — “Lor’ 
bless yo’, boy — ^halleluyah! De Lord am good!” 
And she extended her big, round black arms heav- 
enward. Then she turned, and squeezing in 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE THIEF 93 

through the door, called out : ‘ ‘ Oh, mammy Lou ! 
jes’ hear de good news 

‘‘And thaVs George Mackinac’s little ’Lizbeth 
Ann ! ’ ’ said Ray, turning to Leslie. 

‘ ‘ She could hardly get through the door, ’ ’ 
smiled Leslie. 

“And now she’s plumb full and running over 
with halleluyah,” said Ray. 

The Scouts were making for the gate, when 
Elizabeth Ann came rolling after them, and sing- 
ing out: “Jes’ a minute; you darling boys, jes’ 
a minute! Take dis heah.” She held out in her 
fat hands a pie of grateful proportions. 

“Is this for George Mackinac?” said Ray, tak- 
ing the oifering. 

“De Lor’ bless yo’I hit’s fo’ you-all. He got 
to come fo’ his hisself. Tell him his ’Lizbeth Ann 
^ine to sit up waitin’ for ’im.” 

“His little ’Lizbeth Ann,” grinned Ray. 

And she grinned back in appreciation of his 
joke, her white teeth flashing, and stood looking 
as they made off. 

“Well, say, this kind of dunnage is easier to 
carry stowed where it belongs,” said Ray, break- 
ing into the pie. “And it’s cherry 

When Ray and Leslie got to the rendezvous on 
the creek, the other Scouts had finished properly 
walling the passage from the hole under the house 
to the box trap. Mr. Blount and the two younger 


94 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


men, and the hound on a rope, arrived directly; 
they were armed as if for battle. 

‘‘Now, then,’’ said Mr. Maclay, when all seemed 
in readiness, “it will be well for two of you to 
stand ready with your guns, in case the trap fails 
to spring, while you with the hound, and you, Rob- 
ert, go inside to the cellar door in the floor, and 
rout him out. ’ ’ 

All took their stations, and the hound, who had 
been kept at a distance, was led forward, on the 
leash, and into the house. Immediately those out- 
side heard a violent baying of the hound, and ex- 
pectantly set their eyes on the box, the two guns 
at ready. 

Suddenly they became sensible of a commotion 
in the box, the doors at the ends fell into place, 
and the box trembled with the violent dashing 
from end to end of some live thing within. 

“Hooray!” yelled Phil. “He’s caught!” 

“What’s caught?” said Slicky, coming out of 
the door. 

‘ ‘ The dog, ’ ’ said Phil. 

‘ ‘ Let ’s see, ’ ’ said the Scoutmaster ; and he took 
the first peek through the cracks that had pur- 
posely been made wide enough to admit a glimpse 
within. 

Ray stole a peek. 

‘ ‘ Scott ! it ’s a fox! ’ ’ said he. ‘ ‘ I wondered what 
you two were grinning at one another about this 


ON THE TRAIL OF THE THIEF 95 


morning.” His glance took in Wa^me and Slicky. 

All made tlieir way into the house and down 
into the cellar, where a light was struck, which 
revealed to Mr. Blount an abundance of chicken 
feathers, that he easily identified as of his flock. 

‘‘Well, them six chickens I promised is yours,” 
he avowed, addressing the Scouts. 

Wayne’s eyes appealed to the Scoutmaster, who 
replied to the man’s declaration. 

“Mr. Blount,” he began, “the boys appreciate 
your good will in the matter of the chickens, but 
it is a rule of the Scouts that they shall not take 
pay for good turns. But they have something 
they want to ask of you. This colored fellow, who 
was suspected of stealing the chickens, will nat- 
urally vrant to return home — ” 

“He ain’t got no ’casion to be af eared o’ we- 
all,” broke in Mr. Blount. “We ain’t a-gwine to 
molest him so long as he keeps himself in his place. 
An’ I allow it ain’t more ’n right we owns up we- 
all was a little previous in suspectin’ him.” 

“Thank you,” said the Scoutmaster. “I can 
see the Scouts are pleased with what you say.” 

“I ain’t jest feelin’ right about them chickens 
I promised, but I reckon hit’ll come out all right. 
When are you-all expectin ’ to leave ? ’ ’ 

“We start at eight in the morning,” said Mr. 
Maclay. 

So the Scouts parted company with Mr. Blount 


96 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


and comrades, and made their way back to the 
house-boat, their captive fox in one of the skiffs. 

George Mackinac Jackson abandoned the con- 
templation of his row of pies, cooling on the galley 
table, to peek in at the fox, when the box had been 
lifted to the after deck. He pursed his lips and 
screwed up his eyes, as he gazed at the prisoner 
within. 

‘‘You lid red debbil,^^ he said, “Ah reckons yo’ 
ain’t gwine to put no moh o’ yo’ scand’lous doin’s 
on dis heah niggah. ’ ’ 

“Look here you, George Mackinac,” said Ray, 
“how much do you weigh ? ’ ’ 

“On de Fo’th o’ July Ah put a penny in one o’ 
dem weighin’ machines an’ de han’ point to one 
hundred an’ twenty-nine an’ a half,” declared 
George. 

“How much did your little ’Lisbeth Ann 
weigh!” demanded Ray. 

“0 — we!^^ shrieked the darky; and he danced 
a double shuffle on the deck in his glee. “Does 
yo’ think Ah could git mah ’Lizbeth Ann on dat 
ah scale! — ’sides, dat scale don’t weigh no moh 
dan t ’ree hundered poun ’. ’ ’ And he doubled over 
with laughter, showing his white teeth and rolling 
his eyes with the agony of his merriment. 

The happy darky was hustled off to see his 
“little Elizabeth Ann,” and the Scouts turned 
back again to their regular duties. 


ON THE TEAIL OF THE THIEF 97 


In the morning, breakfast was barely over with, 
when the young son of Mr. Blount appeared on 
the bank and hailed the Whippoorwill, Ray and 
Leslie rowed over for the boy, who carried a box, 
containing four young live chickens, and a basket, 
holding an unknown number of chickens in the 
fried state, besides fresh corn bread. 

‘‘Dad’ll take it hard ef you-all don’t accept of 
’em, ’ ’ said the boy. 

“Well, you tell him we do,” said Mr. Maclay; 
“and give him our thanks.” 


CHAPTER IX 


bay’s log THE NIGHT FISHING THE BOY’s WABN- 

ING 

P romptly at eight, Ray cast off the line 
from the tow-head, climbed aboard, and he 
and Richie seized the sweeps and swung 
the Whippoorwill into the current. 

“This is far enough,” quickly declared the 
sweltering Leslie. “I’m all in; this is going to 
be the hottest day yet. ’ ’ 

“Second the motion,” said Ray, easing up on 
his oar. “There isn’t a breath of wind, and my 
lips are too dry to whistle for one — ^look at the 
river smoke.” 

Charles, Phil, Slicky, Wayne, and Mr. Maclay 
got together under the awning of the forward half 
of the hurricane deck. The cooks were still rat- 
tling pots and pans in the galley. Ray stood on 
duty on the after deck, Leslie on the forward. 
“Better call the cooks,” said the scoutmaster. 
“Cooks, ahoy!” called Ray through the galley 
door. 

In turn, Bert and Joe appeared at the top of 
the ladder. 

“What are we going to feed the fox?” said 

98 


EAY’S LOG— THE NIGHT FISHING 99 


Bert. hope we don’t have to feed him on 
chickens. ’ ’ 

“No! No! No!” came from Eay, below. 
“He’s had his spree on chicken. I move we put 
the prisoner on stale bread and water.” 

“I wish we had him in a cage, so we could get 
a good look at him,” spoke Charles. 

“We’ll get wire,” said Mr. Maclay, “and let 
Wayne and Eobert make him a cage. Now then. 
Scouts, let’s see what you’ve got in your logs 
by this time.” 

“There’s been enough doing to fill a little 
book,” declared Leslie. “I’ve hardly had time 
to make mine complete.” 

“Let’s read Eay’s first,” offered Phil. “It 
won’t take long.” 

“Aw! That’ll do!” called out Eay from be- 
low. “It’s ‘multum in parvo’ — tell it all and 
don’t waste breath — that’s my motto.” 

“Say, you’ll run us onto a snag, if you don’t 
attend to your business, ’ ’ called down Phil. 

“ I ’ll be snagged if I do ! ” returned Eay. “You 
don’t know, but I’ve always got my weather eye 
working. ’ ’ 

“Well, Phil,” smiled Mr. Maclay, “suppose you 
read Eay’s log.” 

So Eay was required to hand up his book. The 
Scouts ranged themselves on either side of the 
table, on benches, and Phil began ; 


100 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


July 7. Got off the earth into a fog at 5. Phil 
tried to bust the fog-horn and attracted a steamer. 
Pilot barked at the horn. 

Geneva Island at 3. Steamer on sand-bar. 
Pulled off by Wayne and the wireless. I worked 
the wireless and Wayne his mouth. Great stunt, 
the captain called it; Wayne said it was only a 
good turn. 

July 8. Start at 9. Blair at 11 — ^pearl but- 
tons by the million. Lost a suspender button 
stretching my eyes — had to fasten up with a 
safety-first pin. Beaver Island at 6. 

July 9. Marvin Blaisdell, pearl fisher. Bertie 
catches a pearl — on a hook. Fisher tells a story 
with a cryptograph in it that got Wayne. He^s 
bugs on that stuff. 

July 10. Start at 8. Leslie and I — cooks. At 
Harrisburg before noon. Slicky and I go ^‘bug- 
house’’ and put it over on the tough gang. Slicky 
ducked the chief works in the Mississippi. Hick- 
ory Island at 4. 

July 11. “In the dead hours of night when 
the — ” Wayne’s nose tells him a skiff is deserting 
and takes the trail across to the island. Wayne 
sees his man Friday’s foot-prints in the sand (only 
it’s Saturday) and flags Friday up a tree. A 
hound comes and says Friday is a chicken thief. 
Wayne whispers to us that he isn’t. Friday takes 
cover, and Wayne gets on the real villain’s trail. 


RAY’S LOG— THE NIGHT FISHING 101 


Foxy trapped and Friday restored to liis ‘‘Li’l 
’Lizbet’ Ann.” 

When Phil had finished the reading, Ray called 
np in protest: 

want you to know, Mr. Scoutmaster, that 
that’s all in short-hand. I’m going to get Wayne 
to help me to put it in the Queen’s when we get 
home.” 

The other Scouts’ logs were more detailed, es- 
pecially that of Wayne, whose record, as sug- 
gested in Ray’s showed that he’d been deeply 
moved by old Marvin Blaisdell’s story. 

‘Ht seemed kind of wonderful,” said Charles 
Manners, ‘Hhat we should have caught the fox 
in a shack that Marvin Blaisdell used to live in.” 

‘‘As he said,” observed Mr. Maclay, “he’s 
camped all up and down the river, above St. Louis, 
in his day. He’s been fishing many a year.” 

‘ ‘ I guess he could tell many more stories of the 
river,” said Bert. 

“Yes,” offered Phil, “but none Wayne would 
like so well as that one he told us. Eh, Wayne?” 

Mr. Maclay produced his chart of the river, and 
the Scouts their glasses; and then came a study 
of the map and a spirited contest to see who should 
be first to discover the various landmarks as they 
came gradually into view of the slowly mov- 
ing house-boat. Islands, dams, light-posts, day- 


102 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


marks ; buoys (spar buoys and barrel buoys) sand- 
bars, towns. The heavily wooded shorts seemed 
to swelter in the hot sun; cattle waded into the 
cooling waters ; bathing boys stopped their splash- 
ing to observe the house-boat flying the stars and 
stripes and the patrol flag, and to wonder over 
the aerial wires that swung from end to end, 
above the awning. 

The Scouts were lingering a bit over the din- 
ner that had been set on the galley table by Joe 
and Bert, when there came a call from Leslie, on 
duty out on the deck. 

‘^Town on the starboard quarter,’^ he called. 

Out hurried the Scouts. 

‘ ‘ Hurrah for Hamilton ! ’ ’ Phil was first on the 
hurricane deck. 

Pretty homes perched on the top of high, steep 
hills. As the Whippoorwill slowly neared the 
town, Charles Manners and Phil Conger manned 
one of the skiffs and carried Wayne and Slicky 
to shore amongst steamers moored to the levee. 
The house-boat had passed under the bridge and 
was approaching the lower end of the town when 
Wayne and Slicky appeared with their purchase 
of wire for the fox-cage. A fifteen-minute brisk 
row brought them to the Whippoorwill again. 

At four, Leslie and Kay, with the help of Phil 
and Charles, tied the house-boat to a sycamore 
on Hamilton Island, opposite Flint’s Landing. 


BAY’S LOG—THE NIGHT FISHING 103 


No sooner was the wood-box filled than Charles 
and Phil set out to explore the island, while Slicky 
and Wayne got to work on the fox-cage. Eay and 
Leslie donned their bathing togs and rowed to a 
sand-bar, a half mile up the shore, to seine for 
minnows ; for the Scouts were becoming fish hun- 
gry. And then Ray was anxious to demonstrate 
that, aside from being a first-class pastry cook, 
as evidenced by his flap- jacks and bread pudding, 
he could be some fisherman, too. 

Under Slicky ’s direction, Ray and Leslie set 
out the trot-line across the channel, with a heavy 
rock at either end to hold it on the bottom, and a 
floater on a line near one end to pull it up by, the 
hooks on the stagings a yard apart. After eve- 
ning council the minnows were put on the hooks 
by Ray; by ‘‘lights out,” at nine-thirty, he had 
the alarm clock hanging by his pillow, set to go 
otf at twelve, when he meant to run the line and 
surprise the Scouts with his big haul. 

The alarm tinkled away promptly on the hour ; 
a rooster in the box up on the hurricane deck, set 
up a crowing. The Scoutmaster, Wayne, and 
Slicky opened their eyes and waited for Ray to 
bestir himself to gather in his fish off the line. 
But Ray snoozed on, undisturbed by either the 
alarm or the rooster. Wayne, who lay beside him, 
leaned over and! listened to his regular, deep 
breathing, and wondered whether a dozen alarms 


104 BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 

in succession, or all together, could waken his 
comrade. 

Then came a whispered consultation between 
Slicky and the scoutmaster, at the end of which 
Slicky crawled forth, and was soon rowing out to 
the trot-line in the darkness. 

At five minutes to six the alarm clock again 
began its rattle-ringing, and accompanying it 
there broke forth a fearful din of tin pans, which 
as suddenly ceased, and a number of sly eyes 
peeped forth from the covers. 

The rooster, up on the hurricane deck, crowed 
again. Eay, this time moved himself, got on an 
elbow and rubbed his eyes, blinking at the morn- 
ing light, and not suspecting that he was sur- 
rounded, as it were, by a bunch of pretending 
sleepers. Then his more wakeful eyes lighted on 
a string of fish hanging, kicking, from the ceiling ; 
two sheepsheads, a channel cat, and a long-nosed 
gar — to say nothing of a soft-shell turtle on the 
floor, making the round of the room. 

‘‘What in Sam Hill!’’ he began, blinking on 
the strange scene, while those of the Scouts who 
hadn’t a perfect command of their faces, kept 
them safe muffled in the quilts. 

“What kind of a brass band alarm-clock have 
you got there, Ray?” said Wajme, pretending to 
rub the sleep out of his eyes as well. 

“It sure did make some racket, didn’t it?” said 


BAY’S LOG— THE NIGHT FISHING 105 


Bay, dangling his legs over the edge of the bunk. 
And then he pointed to the fish where they hung 
from the middle of the ceiling. But before he 
could express his thought, Wayne broke in with 
the observation: 

‘‘You did get some after all, didn’t you!” 

“Did I!” said Bay; his eyes turned to Wayne 
brimming with perplexity. 

“Looks like it — what’s the matter with you?” 
said Wayne; and there wasn’t a suspicion of any- 
thing but sincere wonder in his look. 

The two got to the floor. 

“Darned if I remember a thing!” said Bay, 
surveying his clothes, scattered in an unusual dis- 
order; he had gone to bed leaving his clothing 
hung on the hooks, quite regular. 

“Must be you do your fishing in your sleep,” 
suggested Wayne. 

“Am I — am I awake now?” appealed Bay. 

“If you’re not, you better go run the line 
again,” said Wayne. 

Bay scratched his head as he scrutinized the 
bunks of the pretending sleepers. 

“If I didn’t know you fellows were above im- 
posing on a helpless little toodles like me, I’d 
think it was a put up job,” said Bay. “Come, 
fellows, turn loose, I can hear some of you chok- 
ing.” 

With that Phil pulled from out his mouth about 


106 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


half a yard of his sheet and let out a yell; the rest 
were a little less vociferous ; and the startled tur- 
tle lighted out for the galley as fast as his turtle 
legs would carry him. 

Ray put on a mock-injured air. Well, I baited 
the hooks, anyway. The thing is to get them on 
the hooks ; even a poor cook can fry them. Say, 
Slicky, you and Wayne are cooks to-day; I hope 
you can make good turtle — Hooray! Where’s 
my soft-shell?” 

saw him start for the galley,” offered 
Charles. 

Ray discovered the turtle trying to hide between 
the galley wall and the soup kettle. 

While Charles and Phil (boatswain’s crew) 
cleaned decks and set things to rights on the 
Whippoorwill j and Bert and Joe (coxswain’s 
crew) set off in one of the skiffs to pick up some 
planks, washed ashore above, Ray and Leslie 
rowed out to take up the trot-line, on which they 
found another sheephead to add to the night’s 
catch. In the meantime, Wayne and Slicky be- 
stirred themselves about the galley stove, over 
mush, bacon, and eggs. 

At eight o’clock the coxswain’s crew ran up the 
colors, the boatswain’s crew manned the sweeps, 
and the voyage was once more resumed. 

The Scouts reveled in the constant change of 
scene. A steamer passed, going up, on which a 


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Drawing by Walt Londerback 

“ ^The gang down in Dellsville won’t do a thing to you guys, 
he called hack, pulling hard” 


Fage 107 



EAY’S LOG— THE NIGHT FISHING 107 


man with a twelve-foot pole was sounding the 
river and calling the depths to the pilot. 

When the Scouts were at dinner, passing Dairy 
Island, they heard Charles, on duty without, in 
talk with some boy in a skiff. 

‘‘What you doin’ with that kind o’ duds on!” 
said the boy. 

“This is a Scout uniform,” explained Charles. 

“They ain’t nothin’ to scout around here,” said 
the boy; “the Injuns are way out west.” 

“We’re not that kind of Scouts,” said Charles. 

“You look like one o’ them tin soldiers,” said 
the boy. 

Eay had appeared on deck. 

“We’re just a bunch of scare-crows, going down 
to keep the potato bugs off the sunflowers,” said 
Eay. 

The boy, evidently sensing that Eay would be 
too much for him, set to rowing away. 

“Oh, pshaw! don’t run away,” begged Eay. 
“You’re just the kind of a feller I like to talk to.” 

But the boy kept to the oars. 

“The gang down in Dellsville won’t do a thing 
to you guys,” he called back, pulling hard. 

The house-boat passed under the railroad bridge 
at Dellsville before three, and was tied up at the 
head of Anvil Island — a mile and a half below 
the town — at four o’clock. Anvil Island pre- 
sented to the Scouts a very attractive aspect; a 


108 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


bit hilly, with oaks, elms, maples, and here and 
there a sycamore, growing clean down to the 
WhippoorwilVs place of mooring. 

When everything had been made snug, the 
Scouts scattered about the upper half of the island, 
which was a mile across at its widest, and four 
miles long from point to point. It was heavily 
wooded in places, with very attractively secluded 
glades in others. 

‘^What a fine place for games!’’ said Leslie. 

Let’s get Mr. Maclay to let us stay over here 
to-morrow,” suggested Phil. 

‘‘Aye! Aye!” came the usual chorus. 

Before the Scouts finally assembled for supper, 
Slicky got Wayne’s ear for a confidential word, 
and a request to be conveyed to the scoutmaster. 
Slicky ended his secret communication with: 

‘ ‘ The kid came down on purpose in the boat to 
spy and find out our plans. I’ll bet. He asked 
how long we was going to stay, and I told him I 
reckoned a day or two. And you know what that 
kid said up at Dairy Island.” 

“Well,” said Wayne, “I’ll speak to the scout- 
master; but you better get Kay to go with you; 
I ought to stay with the crowd.” 

So when supper was over and all had got set- 
tled for evening council, the scoutmaster opened 
with: 

“Your patrol leader tells me that you Scouts 


BAY’S LOG— THE NIGHT FISHING 109 


want to stay over here to-morrow, and that a re- 
quest has been made to give you freedom for the 
day — without leadership. Well, I’ll tell you what 
I ’ll do. To-morrow, I ’ll be boatswain ’s crew, cox- 
swain ’s crew, and cook — all in one, and each of 
you can do just as your inclination moves you; 
come for your meals when it pleases you, and so 
on. All I ask is : that you remember that you are 
Scouts, and report to me your day’s doings be- 
fore turning in.” 

“Hurrah!” exploded Phil. 


CHAPTEE X 


PLAYING SMUGGLERS AND CATCHERS 

W HILE the Scouts slept, heavy showers 
came to relieve the parched forest. So, 
when the boys tumbled out of their 
bunks — in time to see the sun rising out of the last 
cloud-bank skeltering eastward up the river — 
they felt the exhilaration that seemed to be in the 
birds, the trees — everything. They scampered 
ashore ; and while the scoutmaster made breakfast, 
they capered like goats. The trees were still 
dripping the rain, with which they were saturated. 

Phil suddenly ceased his noise — ominously — 
and cautiously climbed into a wild cherry tree; 
and when a little group of the others in their 
fandango chanced to reach the spot to his liking, 
he let out a whoop, and with a hard shake let 
down a shower on their heads. Before the siege 
was over, and he was let down, Phil was the most 
drenched of the crowd. 

At one side, Wayne, Eay, and Slicky had their 
heads together, talking in low tones. Slicky was 
repeating to Eay the story of his encounter with 
a boy from Dellsville on the evening before, and 
110 


PLAYING SMUGGLERS 


111 


asserting his absolute conviction that the gang, 
hinted at by the boy up at Dairy Island, was up 
to something that boded trouble for the Scouts. 

“I know that kind,’’ declared Slicky. ‘‘They 
think we’re a regular ‘softy’ bunch, and it’d be 
easy to put something over on us.” 

“Well, what do you think they’re up to!” said 
Ray. 

“You go with me,” Slicky nodded confidently, 
“and we’ll find out.” 

“But that fellow saw us last night and ’ll know 
us if he sees us again,” objected Ray. 

“You leave that to me,” grinned Slicky. “I’ve 
been planning all that. ’ ’ 

The conference was broken up by discovery. 

“Say, fellows,” said Charles Manners; “just 
look at that bunch of conspirators with their nuts 
together — up under that tree.” 

‘ ‘ Here, you ! ’ ’ called Phil. ‘ ‘ Let us in on that ! ’ ’ 

“We’ll let you in when it gets hot,” returned 
Ray. 

Breakfast was hurried through with, and the 
Scouts trooped forth to make the most of the day. 
Slicky and Ray slipped quietly away in a boat, 
rowed by Wayne, while the others, under the trees, 
were discussing games. 

Presently, after Wayne had returned in the 
skiff and joined the group under the trees, the 
Scoutmaster came ashore, and listened to the talk 


112 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


of his charges as they endeavored to settle on a 
game that would fit. Finally he spoke. 

‘‘If you Scouts don’t mind, I’ll suggest a game 
that has come into my head, that seems to suit the 
location. We’ll call it ‘Smugglers and Catchers.’ 
You divide in two parties: 

SMUGGLERS 

1. Joe. (Signal — 1 whistle on fingers.) 

2. Phil. (Signal — 2 whistles on fingers.) 

3. Charlie. (Signal — 3 whistles on fingers.) 

CATCHERS 

1. Wayne. (Signal — 1 blast on scout whistle.) 

2. Leslie. (Signal — 2 blasts on scout whistle.) 

3. Bert. (Signal — 3 blasts on scout whistle.) 

The smugglers use their fingers for whistling, 
and the catchers their Scout whistles — for the 
sake of distinction. The aim of the smugglers is 
to bring in forbidden goods, say from some point 
a couple of miles down the island shore, to the 
Whippoorwill, without being caught. The aim of 
the catchers is to apprehend each and every one 
of the smugglers red-handed. Whichever side 
succeeds, that side wins. Now, before I go any 
further, do you care for the game?” 

The vote was unanimous. 

Inasmuch as the Scoutmaster’s further instruc- 
tions are made plain as the game proceeds, we will 
begin at once. 


PLAYING SMUGGLERS 


113 


Joe, Phil, and Charles, smugglers, went in one 
of the skitfs to a point about two miles down the 
island shore; Wayne, Leslie, and Bert, catchers, 
hurried ahead through the woods, going to the 
same point, where they concealed themselves in 



the brush. Each carried a card of prearranged 
signals. 

The smugglers’ boat landed. Smuggler No. 3 
(Charles) got ashore, bearing the goods (a small 
tin of screws) and plunged into the woods, north- 
west. After fifteen minutes had passed catcher 
No. 3 (Bert) set off on the trail, which had been 
marked with Scout trail signs by smuggler No. 3. 
Bert presently came upon a maple, beside which 


114 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


was an arrow scratched in the ground. At this 
point the blazed trail turned north, to a hickory 
where there was another arrow showing the di- 
rection taken by the smuggler. Thence north- 
west ; finally, passing a big sycamore, and ending, 
so far as marks were concerned, at the head of a 
small slough. Foot-prints showed for a short dis- 
tance in an easterly direction, but were soon lost. 
Bert then made his way toward the upper end 
of the island (according to directions) where he 
was to try to get sight of smuggler No. 3 (Charles) 
and keep him under surveillance. 

In the meantime, smuggler No. 3 had made his 
way eastward, to a point on the island shore. 
Here he produced a paper, which he had prepared, 
placed it in a bottle, which he corked and threw 
into the river at the upper end of the island. 

The two other smugglers, who were watching, 
rowed out and intercepted the bottle. They ex- 
tracted and read the paper, which smuggler No. 1 
(Joe) took into his possession, with the bottle. 
Smuggler No. 1 then got ashore. Smuggler No. 
2 (Phil) rowed up along the shore to a sand-bar 
(about a mile) where he pulled up the boat and 
made his way to the region northwest of the 
slough, and waited. Catcher No. 2 (Leslie) fol- 
lowed smuggler No. 2 (walking on the shore) but, 
after seeing Phil land above the slough, he found 
it necessary to gain a crossing, which he did on 


PLAYING SMUGGLERS 


115 


a log, a quarter of a mile above the mouth of the 
slough. He then went cautiously on his way to 
get his man under surveillance again. 

In the meantime, smuggler No. 1 (Joe) took up 
the trail marked by smuggler No. 3. Five min- 
utes later, catcher No. 1 (Wayne) followed. Joe, 
in 528 paces, reached the maple. Here he read 
the paper again, fixing the directions in his mem- 
ory ; and then (according to the rules of the game) 
he placed it in the bottle, dropped it and hurried 
forward. 

When catcher No. 1 (Wayne) reached the ma- 
ple, he discovered the bottle, and read the paper, 
as follows : 

Catcher on my trail, 1 hurled the goods : — 
Landing, NW 528 paces — Maple, N 500 
paces — Shell hark hickory, NW 704 paces (88 
paces short of head of slough) Sycamore — 
Dig, 

Wayne continued on the trail, 500 paces, to the 
shell-bark hickory, thence started counting the 704 
paces northwest toward the sycamore. But sud- 
denly — ^when he had gone six hundred paces — he 
espied Joe at the foot of the sycamore, just seat- 
ing himself in a careless attitude. 

It must be said here that catcher No. 1 might 
now intercept smuggler No. 1, and recover the 
goods, buried at the foot of the sycamore. But 


116 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


he would thereby gain nothing, since to win, it is 
necessary, by the rules of the game, to catch all 
the smugglers red-handed — see each with the 
goods in his hand, and intercept the last (No. 3) 
when he makes for goal with the goods in his pos- 
session. Smuggler No. 1 must pass the goods on 
to No. 2, and he on to No. 3, and each must carry 
it in his hand while it is on his person. But he 
may bury it, or otherwise conceal it, as often as 
he finds it desirable, and is not bound to uncover 
it again so long as he has reason to know he is 
watched. Smuggler No. 1 is bound to signal No. 
2 the moment he gets possession, and No. 2 is 
bound to answer. When No. 2 gets possession 
he must signal No. 3, who answers (each one^s 
call corresponds to his number). The smugglers 
may pass the goods back and forth between them- 
selves, to avoid capture or to deceive the catchers, 
but none can come, thus, to the assistance of an- 
other until he has once had possession of the 
goods; and only smuggler No. 3 can carry the 
goods in the dash for goal. 

Wayne retreated to induce Joe to uncover the 
goods. Then, soon, he heard Joe’s two whistles 
(on his fingers) to announce to Phil (No. 2) that 
he had the goods, and to come to meet him. 
Wayne rushed forward as Phil answered (one 
whistle), came up in time to see Joe running with 
the tin, and called Leslie (two blasts on his Scout 


PLAYING SMUGGLERS 


117 


whistle) and Leslie answered (one whistle). Joe 
then signaled Phil (a secret signal) to lay low, 
and he endeavored to elude Wayne, who crept out 
of view and circled, till he again heard Joe signal 
PhiPs call. 

Leslie ran toward the sound of PhiPs whistle, 
whom he presently caught sight of (himself un- 
seen) and kept in view, till he saw Joe finally hand 
Phil the tin of goods. Phil then signaled Charles 
(3 blasts, with his fingers). Charles answered 
(with 2). Then Leslie signaled Bert (3 blasts of 
his Scout whistle), who answered (with 2 blasts). 
And Wayne hurried toward the sounds, joining 
Leslie in the endeavor to keep Joe and Phil in 
sight. But Joe and Phil (smugglers Nos. 1 and 
2) seated themselves on the ground, and refused 
to proceed with the catchers ’ eyes on them. 
Thereupon Wayne and Leslie fell back, Joe rising 
and following to see that they retired far enough 
for his purposes. Wayne plunged into the brush 
and circled to the left, coming on Phil in the act 
of hiding the goods near an oak. He then hur- 
ried away, not to betray the place. Watching 
from his cover, Wayne saw Phil put his fingers 
to his mouth and signal Charles, who soon came. 
Phil talked into Charles ’ ear, exposing the hiding 
place, and then ran northward, leaving Charles 
to recover the goods when he thought safe. 

Wayne remained quietly in hiding, watching 


118 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Charles, who, after a careful scrutiny of the re- 
gion, got the tin and hastened northward, hoping 
to make goal. Wayne darted forward to inter- 
cept him; and Charles, hearing the crashing of 
the brush behind him, signaled his smuggler com- 
rades — two whistling blasts, and then one, on his 
fingers. Wayne blew three blasts, and then two, 
on his Scout whistle, and continued after Charles, 
who was met by Phil, turned back by Charles’ 
call. 

Charles thrust the tin into Phil’s hand just as 
Joe came up. Directly, also, Leslie and Bert 
joined Wayne. They were now just south of a 
ridge about thirty feet in height and a hundred 
yards long. After a whispered conference, Phil 
and Joe, with the tin of goods (now safe, since the 
catchers could only win by catching Charles, No. 
3, in possession) Phil and Joe turned to the left, 
followed by Leslie and Wayne. Bert followed 
Charles, who went around the right of the ridge. 

Joe and Phil trotted directly northward; Wayne 
and Leslie kept them in view. After a time the 
two smugglers eased to a walk and looked behind, 
by which it was evident to the two catchers that 
they meant to try some new maneuver when they 
could evade the catchers’ eyes. So Wayne and 
Leslie fell back to encourage them, and the mo- 
ment they were out of view, Wayne made a detour, 
on a run, and crouched in some bushes ahead of 


PLAYING SMUGGLERS 


119 


the smugglers in time to see Joe conceal the tin 
again, and retire a little way back, Phil the while 
lingering to the south to keep the catchers out of 
view. 

At a signal from Joe of ^‘AlPs well,’’ Phil 
started northwest, while Joe settled down, watch 
in hand, for a wait. 

Wayne got around back to Leslie. 

“Phil’s gone north,” said he. “Joe is sitting 
with his watch out. I believe they’re going to 
try to fool us all down this way and then run it in 
by relay. You stay a little back, south, and pay 
no attention to any signaling, until you hear any 
kind of signal from Joe. Then you pretend to 
whistle me a signal down here and run a little way 
east and answer it yourself — so they’ll think we’re 
both over this way. I’ll hustle up north of Joe, 
near goal, and waylay Charles. ’ ’ 

Wayne had been gone some ten minutes, when 
Leslie heard Joe whistling. He blew one blast, 
ran a hundred yards east and answered his own 
call with two blasts, as if it were Wayne. 

Joe seized up the tin, ran furiously, directly 
northeast, and brought it safe to Phil, nearly two- 
thirds of a mile from goal. Phil, fresh, darted 
forward at his greatest speed, and soon heard 
the low signals of Charles, stationed about 500 
paces from goal. 

Wayne, hiding a hundred yards from goal, heard 


120 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Charles’ low signals, intended to direct Phil to 
him. So when Charles, who now had the tin of 
Phil, came on the final dash for goal, Wayne 
jumped out calling, ‘ ‘ Hold ! ” A more astonished 
Scout than Charles never gasped. 

‘‘How in thunderation — did you get here?” he 
demanded, between pants. 

The other boys came trotting in, only to share 
Charles’ amazement; for they declared, emphat- 
ically, that they had heard liim signaling Leslie 
a mile south a few minutes ago. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE MIDNIGHT SUEPRISE PARTY 

W HEN Ray and Slicky had jumped ashore 
on the mainland from the skiff in which 
Wayne had ferried them across, Slicky 
led the way through the brush and across a field 
to a country road, which he followed a quarter of 
a mile to the west, to stop before a farm house. 
Slicky lookod into the barn-yard, where three boys 
of varying age were to be seen, at chores. 

‘‘I guess they’ll do,” observed Slicky. 
‘^What’ll they do for!” demanded Ray. 

guess you’ll have to do the talking here,” 
said Slicky, turning to Ray. “We want to bor- 
row some old clothes from those fellers — to put 
on in place of these here uniforms.” 

‘ ^ Oh, that ’s your lay, is it ! ” said Ray. ‘ ‘ Come 
on, I ’ll grind out the music. ’ ’ 

Ray led the way into the bam-yard and ac- 
costed the oldest of the farmer boys, introducing 
Slicky and himself, and stating their errand, with 
the explanation that they were on a lark. 

“Sure,” said the boy. “We got plenty; come 
into the house and take your pick. ’ ’ 

121 


122 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


In fifteen minutes Slicky and Ray took the road, 
togged out to look a pair of worse-for-wear coun- 
try chaps: torn and faded straw hats; out-at- 
elbow, checked, calico shirts ; impossible-to-de- 
scribe pants, held up by suspenders. In fact, 
Slicky could sport only the half of a pair of gal- 
luses. And Ray’s pants with difficulty covered 
half his shanks, while Slicky ’s dragged at the 
heels of shoes that had long ago been discarded by 
some woman of the household. Their faces were 
appropriately touched up with ‘‘tramp’s face 
powder, ” as Ray expressed it. 

They were headed northeastward, toward town. 

“I sure never expected to be walking in such 
company,” said Ray, taking in Slicky ’s make-up. 

“You look like a Shanghai rooster,” returned 
Slicky. “Seems like your pants were picked be- 
fore they were ripe.” 

“Yours look mellow enough,” said Ray. 
‘ ‘ They ’re rotten. W ell, where are you going now. 
Never- wash-Pete I ’ ’ 

“Into town,” said Slicky. “I’ll find my way 
when we get there.” 

“I’m on my way to Mandalay,” sang Ray. 

A half-hour’s tramp got the two in amongst the 
houses. Slicky selected a likely looking lad, about 
ten, and brazened up to him. 

“Hello, kid,” he said. “We’s strangers. In 
what part o’ town is de tough gang!” Slicky 


THE MIDNIGHT SUKPRISE PAETY 123 


was suiting his dialect to his costume, and he 
was all in his element, he gave Eay to under- 
stand. 

“They Ve mostly down around the foot of Mar- 
ket,^’ said the boy. 

“Where’s dat?” said Slicky. 

“You go one block that way, and then seven- 
teen blocks that way — down between the creek 
and the railroad tracks. ’ ’ 

Following the boy’s directions, Slicky and Eay 
in time found themselves in the region they 
sought. Coal yards backed to the railroad tracks, 
where switch engines puffed, clanged their bells, 
and bumped freight cars incessantly. On the 
other hand stood rows of yardless shanties, sur- 
rounded by small children playing amidst the 
grime and tin cans. 

Slicky cast his eyes about, as he and Eay shuf- 
fled along, looking like a part of the place; and 
presently Slicky pointed to a spot under a large 
willow sprawled on the creek bank. Within its 
shade grouped a dozen or more, boys of various 
ages, ten to sixteen, apparently. 

“That’s them. I’ll bet,” said Slicky. 

“They sure look tough enough,” murmured 
Eay. 

“I think I see the kid that talked to me last 
night,” observed Slicky. “We’ll kind of lay low 
till I can pick the kid I want — and the crowd 


124 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


scatters; they 11 break up soon now, they’re get- 
ting near that stage — see how excited they look ? ’ ’ 

The two Scouts crept into the shadows of a 
shed, beside a rickety wagon, from which vantage 
point Slicky studied the crowd assembled under 
the tree. At times the boys were attentive, listen- 
ing to just one voice, at others all seemed to be 
yelling at once. Bay and Slicky were too far 
away to catch any of the talk, till finally the crowd 
showed symptoms of a final breaking up, when 
one of the boys led off, and with many turnings 
called back : 

‘‘Come on! Tad,” he said. “There ain’t no 
use 0 ’ no more chewin ’. It ’s all settled. ’ ’ 

Slicky had his eye on one of the boys when the 
crowd finally managed to tear apart, and he led 
the way toward him. 

“Say, kid, we’re strangers,” began Slicky. 
‘ ‘ Kin you tell us anjdhing about this here town 1 ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Sure I kin, ’ ’ said the boy. 

Some of the others began to collect, to hear what 
the strange boys had to say. Then Slicky whis- 
pered into the boy’s ear. 

“I’ve got fifteen cents; shake them kids an’ 
we ’ll have some candy or somethin ’, ” he said. 

“You go up the street — that way — to old Tim’s 
on the corner,” said the boy, “an’ I’ll shake ’em 
and f oiler ye.” 

Slicky and Kay took the way pointed out, and 


THE MIDNIGHT SUEPRISE PARTY 125 


were quickly joined by the boy, who led them into 
a small candy-shop. The boy’s favorite was 
brown pop, and the three were soon sucking at 
three bottles, and trying to ‘‘make ’em last long,” 
as the boy suggested. 

“Is there any fun in this town?” began Slicky. 

‘ ‘ Sure — sometimes, ’ ’ said the boy, releasing his 
bottle and smacking his lips with relish. “I 
reckon it’ll be some sport to-night.” 

“What’s doin’ to-night?” said Slicky. 

“Aw, that’d be tellin’;” and the boy gave a 
twist to his head and applied himself to his pop 
again. 

“There ain’t no harm tellin’ us fellers, is 
there?” pressed Slicky. 

“We ain’t supposed to say nothin’,” explained 
the boy, reluctant to be disobliging. 

“Oh, if it’s a secret we ain’t wantin’ to know,” 
said the sly Slicky. “We might tell some inter- 
estin’ things, too; hey, Alec?” turning to Ray. 

“You bet!” agreed Ray. “ ’Specially ’bout 
them Scouts on the trail, and — ” 

“Scouts!” broke in the boy. “The game to- 
night’s with some fellers as calls theirselves 
Scouts — say, you fellers is good sports; I don’t 
mind tellin’ ye. But don’t give me away to the 
other kids.” 

“Sure, we won’t,” encouraged Slicky. 

“Well, Hank Marsh has got a cousin that lives 


126 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


up at Dairy. He came in last night an’ told Hank 
about some fellers as calls theirselves Scouts, an ’ 
thinks theirselves smart, an’ is on a shanty-boat. 
They went by yesterday, an’ some o’ the fellers 
saw them. They stopped down at Anvil Island, 
an’ Hank rowed down an’ found out they was goin’ 
to stay two days. They got on ‘tony’ suits with 
stripes an’ things. To-night, ’bout twelve, we 
all ’re goin’ down an’ cut the shanty-boat loose, 
an’ start it down the river, an’ when they wake up 
it’ll be ’cause they’re dancin’ round on the rocks 
of the rapids. An ’ I ’ll bet ye, if they get out they 
won’t feel so ‘stuck up.’ ” 

“It’ll be great sport, won’t it?” said Ray. 

“You bet ye!” and the boy’s eyes sparkled. 
‘ ‘ They ’ll get scared stiff. ’ ’ 

“Are they the scarey kind?” said Ray. 

“I reckon they gets scared every time it thun- 
ders,” returned the boy. 

“Well, we got to be goin’,” said Slicky. 

“You fellers might hang ’round,” graciously 
offered the boy, “if you kin get acrost to the 
island. ’ ’ 

“Yes, I reckon we ought to hang ’round and see 
the fun,” said Ray. “We kin lay low and not 
make any noise.” 

“If you do, an’ if you ever see any o’ the fel- 
lers,” said the boy, “don’t you let on I told ye.” 

“No, we won’t let on,” assured Slicky. 


THE MIDNIGHT SURPRISE PARTY 127 


* ^ So long, see you again, ^ ’ said Ray. 

‘ ‘ So long, ’ ’ returned the boy. 

The two Scouts hurried back on their trail. 

‘‘Well, what do you think of that!’^ said Ray. 

“I was sure something was doing, said Slicky. 

The boys resumed their Scout uniforms and 
reached the shore, opposite the island, some time 
after the others had finished their game. A pull 
at Ray’s whistle got an answer from the island, 
and directly Wayne, in the skiff, appeared around 
the point. 

“Well, what’s been doing?” said Wayne, when 
the boat ’s nose touched shore. 

“A bushel — and a half,” said Ray, climbing in. 

As Slicky rowed, Ray told the story of the re- 
connoitering in town. 

“They sure have a surprise all cooked for us,” 
observed Wayne. 

“We’ve got to give them a hot meetin’ when 
they come,” said Slicky. 

“They’re no ‘Sunday-go-to-meetin’ crowd,” de- 
clared Ray, hinting that theirs must not be a mild 
reception. 

“Well, it’ll have to be a Scout affair,” said 
Wayne. “Let me ashore this side of the point,” 
he added. “I’ll think it over alone. And say 
nothing, till I talk with the Scoutmaster.” 

So Wayne got ashore, and Ray and Slicky pro- 
ceeded in the boat, around the point. 


128 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


When they neared the Whippoorwill, the other 
Scouts flocked to learn what the two had been up 
to, hiking out alone that way. 

‘‘Our patrol leader has our report,’’ said Eay. 
“He’s boiling something in the woods ; you’ll have 
to wait till he’s got it done.” 

Finally Wayne appeared, coming out from the 
trees. He waved the Scouts aside, and was 
straightway closeted with Mr. Maclay, repeating 
to him Bay’s and Slicky’s story. 

“Too bad — too bad,” said the Scoutmaster, with 
a shake of the head. ‘ ‘ But we ’ve got to face this 
thing, and that properly. It won’t do to run 
away. ’ ’ Then observing Wayne ’s look, he added : 
“But 1 see you’ve thought out something. Tell 
me what it is.” 

So then Wayne rehearsed a plan and looked 
anxiously for the Scoutmaster’s approval. 

‘ ‘ Very good — very good, ’ ’ said Mr. Maclay. ‘ ‘ I 
give you full scope; your plan quite suits me, 
though I’d try to avoid the gun.” 

Wayne hurried out to the others and laid the 
whole affair before them, with the result that all 
caught afire with enthusiasm. 

Briefly, Wayne’s plan was to capture the gang 
of boys, first throwing them into a panic by the 
firing of a gun; and then to hustle them aboard 
the Whippoorwill to some kind of a pleasant treat. 


THE MIDNIGHT SURPRISE PARTY 129 


‘^But the Scoutmaster doesn’t like the idea of 
using a gun,” said Wayne. 

With that Phil jumped to his feet. 

‘ ^ I ’ve got a couple of cannon crackers, ’ ’ said he, 
‘‘that I was going to use to wake Ray up some 
morning. I guess I can give that up for this 
thing. ’ ’ 

The boat clock’s hand was already pointing 
close to five, so preparations were pushed forward 
at once. Wayne, Leslie, Charles, and Phil made 
ready to row to Dellsville for the refreshments. 
While they were gone, Slicky and Ray were to row 
across the river to borrow a trammel-net from a 
fisherman, who had been visiting with the Scout- 
master during the day. 

As Wajme’s party was about to push off, Ray 
leaned over and gave a commission into Wayne’s 
ear. 

“Say, Wayne,” he said, “you get me a bottle 
of brown pop. ’ ’ 

By nine o’clock that night, the final doings to- 
ward dressing the ground for the midnight per- 
formance were on. The table in the galley was 
already set; and now the Scouts were out on the 
slope, sixty yards from the house-boat in the clear 
space between the trees, laying the trammel-net 
ready for its part in the business. On one side 
was marshy ground, on the other the brush was 


130 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


too thick for the easy passage of any one in a 
hurry; so conditions were next to ideal for their 
purposes. 

At nine-thirty all lights were out. When eleven 
struck, the Scouts got ashore quietly. Wayne, 
Leslie, Charles, Joe, and Bert took station up at 
the trammel-net. Slicky went beyond to the shore 
to act as sentry. Bay and Phil crouched close 
beside bushes on either side of the approach and 
but a little way from the house-boat, Phil being 
near to the tree to which the Whippoorwill moor- 
ing rope was made fast. The Scoutmaster sat by 
a screen of cut brush close to the boat, in posses- 
sion of the two cannon crackers — their fuses tied 
together — and holding a stick of lighting-punk. 

The night was quite gloomy and still, the only 
sound bullfrogs and crickets ; now and then a bat 
whisked between the Scouts’ eyes and the stars 
that showed through the breaks in the foliage. 
Any one who approached would never suspect that 
a single being — much less nine Scouts — crouched 
in the black recesses under the trees. It had been 
suggested, there was a bare chance the coming vis- 
itors had sent a spy ahead ; so in the beginning of 
that wait not a sound came from any one of the 
nine in hiding. 

In time Phil began to twist from side to side 
with impatience, but at a warning ‘‘hist” he sub- 
sided. 


THE MIDNIGHT SURPEISE PARTY 131 


Then, finally, Slicky glided into the invisible 
company, and went the rounds with the tidings 
that two boats were coming toward the island from 
above. He glided away again ; and in five minutes 
returned once more, to announce that the boats 
had landed. 

Then the Scouts all became tense with excite- 
ment. 

Very soon after, a goodly sprinkling of stealth- 
ily moving shapes crept into view, stopping now 
and again as if to listen and look. 

When all had finally passed the trammel-net and 
gained a spot near the house-boat, Slicky took up 
one end of the net and quickly crept over the open 
space, laying the meshed thing across the path the 
visitors had just trod. 

Two of the approaching figures crawled to the 
mooring rope, thrusting forth knives to cut it on 
instant notice. 

Even the crickets seemed to stop their chirp, 
and the night to hold its breath. 

On a sudden, a fearful war-whoop rose from 
PhiPs lungs, and was echoed by Ray. Two fierce 
explosions shook the forest. 

For a moment the forms of the visitors hung 
transfixed. Then panic got them ; they turned and 
with a rush made back up the slope, only to be 
brought to a stop by the invisible fence of netting, 
in whose meshes they became entangled as they 


132 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


struggled and it closed around them in the hands 
of the Scouts. 

They were helpless — all the more since they 
were bewildered. Some struggled to free them- 
selves, till the Scoutmaster came forward and 
said: 

‘Mt will be better, boys, if you come along 
quietly. ’ ’ 

Something in his tone had the desired effect, 
for the efforts ceased. And when the feet of two 
had been freed from the tangle, the captives al- 
lowed themselves to be led down to and aboard the 
house-boat. 

A light was made in the bunk-room, and the 
trammel-net was unwound from the boys, who 
proved to be eleven in number, and who looked on 
their captors with eyes expressing varying de- 
grees of fear and bewilderment. 

‘‘Well, boys,’’ smiled the Scoutmaster, “we 
want to thank you for your visit, though it is not 
precisely the kind of surprise you intended. Is it 
not so?” 

All eleven boys were dumb, and some plainly 
shamefaced. One of the larger of them, about 
sixteen, and w'earing a khaki jacket, scowled defi- 
antly. He seemed the leader, from the way the 
younger boys looked toward him, as if for protec- 
tion. 


EIVER AND LAND SCOUTING 137 


steamboat channel. The water was ; polling and 
whirling about, telling of menacing rocks below; 
and once, when the oarsmen struggled to get the 
houseboat over eastward at a crossing, the Whip- 
poorwill was shaken by a bump. 

It was nearing two-thirty when Wa 5 Tie sighted 
the professors’ launch, coming chugging down 
over the boiling rapids. They were apparently 
recklessly ignoring the channel. The launch vras 
nearly opposite and within hailing distance when 
Yv^ayne saw it suddenly lurch, as from a shock. 
The professors immediately began bailing. 

‘^They’ve struck a rock!” called out Wayne. 
‘‘Charles, take the steering oar! Slicky, untie a 
skitf ! ’ ’ 

Then he called to the launch, and waved to the 
steersman to approach. He turned to the Scout- 
master. 

“Can’t we pass a rope around the bow, and one 
around the stern, and lash the launch to the house- 
boat I” 

“Just so,” returned the scoutmaster. “Go 
ahead, my boy.” 

Wayne joined Slicky by the skiff. But the 
punctured launch drew rapidly near, and the 
water pouring into its hold gained only slowly on 
the professors, who, buckets in hand, were casting 
out the water furiously. 

When the launch came alongside, Wayne was 


138 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


ready. With Phil’s help he got a rope around the 
bow and made fast to the starboard rowing-post. 
Slicky and Ray got a rope from the stern of the 
launch to the steering oar post on the house-boat. 
Leslie and the Scoutmaster seized buckets and 
joined the professors at the bailing. Bert, Joe, 
and Charles kept to their oars. 

In half an hour they passed under the bridge, 
and fifteen minutes later the Scouts, two at each 
oar, got the boats beached on the sand shore oppo- 
site Keokuk. 

What with twelve pairs of straining arms, it 
took but ten minutes to get the launch ’s bow up on 
the dry sand. 

“Well, that was a tight squeeze,” said the his- 
torical professor. “I didn’t dream there were 
rocks so near the surface.” 

“It was my fault,” said the boatman, owner of 
the launch. “I’ve been over the rapids many a 
time, but there was always more water.” 

The boatman set immediately to work to cut out 
the broken plank in the bow and presently Wayne 
and Slicky rowed him over to the city for a piece 
of lumber with which to complete repairs. 

The two professors were guests of the Scouts 
at supper and the boys were treated to a brief his- 
tory, by one of them, of the exploration of the 
Mississippi. The other, overflowing with geologi- 
cal information, told a story of how the hills and 


EIVER AND LAND SCOUTIND 139 


rocks came to be in the region and how the river 
had cut its way through the rocks, forming the 
rapids with which they had just had so strenuous 
an experience. 

The start in the morning was made promptly 
per schedule at eight. The professors and their 
boatman were still at repairs on the launch. Soon 
the Scouts saw the hills begin to recede on either 
side of the river, giving place to woods and fields 
again. And the boiling rapids as well had been 
left behind so that the Mississippi meandered on- 
ward placidly once more. 

‘‘I Ve had enough excitement to do me a while, 
declared Ray, poking his head into the galley. 
“How about it, PhilT’ 

“If anything starts, don’t tell me about it,” 
begged Phil, at work among the pots and pans, 
making the least noise of which he was capable. 

“Drop your dishes, Charlie,” continued Ray. 
“They’re shiny enough. Scoutmaster is getting 
ready for knots and splices.” 

The Scouts, except Wayne and Slicky, boats- 
wain’s crew for the day, were soon on the hurri- 
cane deck, making the bowline, sheet bend, clove 
hitch, rolling hitch, and so on. Then came rope 
splicing; and the Scoutmaster timed each as he 
whipped the end of a rope. The balance of the 
morning was devoted to a study of the river fea- 
tures; pointing out land-marks as indicated on 


140 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


the chart, identifying the various trees, and not 
neglecting the contents of the fields that reached 
to the river banks here and there. 

There don’t seem to be any more rocks,” ob- 
served Charles. 

‘‘No,” said Ray, “this wouldn’t interest the 
geology professor ; no leavin ’s here of the glacial 
epoch to bump holes in his boat and stir up his 
knowledge. ’ ’ 

The July day was sultry. After the dinner 
dishes were disposed of, Slicky volunteered to fall 
overboard and allow the Scouts to pick him up, if 
they ’d do it gently. So removing coat, shirt, and 
shoes, he waited till the Scouts had got themselves 
busy at various things about the boat, and then 
tumbled off the deck into the river. 

“Man overboard!” called Bert. 

“Man the boat!” ordered Wayne. 

Ray loosed the painter as Leslie jumped in and 
shipped the oars. Wayne, meantime, was making 
a bowline in a bit of rope, which he threw into the 
skiff as Ray pushed off. Leslie, with a few swift 
strokes, brought the boat close to Slicky, who went 
under and bobbed up again, just as Ray got his 
bowline loop ready. This he threw over Slicky ’s 
head as it rose, and then seizing him by the hair, 
he lifted the limp body and got the loop under the 
arms. Leslie, to balance the boat, leaned to the 


EIVER AND LAND SCOUTING 141 


other side, and in a twinkling Bay had hauled the 
drenched boy aboard. 

A few strokes brought the skiff back to the 
house-boat, to whose deck the apparently insensi- 
ble boy was hustled. And then came attempts to 
bring poor Slicky back to life. He refused to 
open his eyes till each of the Scouts in turn had 
fumbled him about and squeezed his lungs and 
Bay had given him a sly kick, with a “Here, you 
humbug, don’t you know when you’re saved?” 

Then came boat drill — Bay, Leslie, Charles, 
Phil, Bert and Joe — three in a boat, two rowing, 
<.iie steering. ‘ ‘ Shove off ! ’ ’ — ^ ^ Up oars ! ’ ’ — ‘ ‘ Let 
fall!” — “Give way!” — “Oars!” — “Toss oars!” 
— “Boat oars!” The boats became motor ves- 
sels, passing one another, overtaking one another, 
and crossing one another’s course — ^whistling the 
proper signals. 

Then finally the boats went scampering back to 
the Whippoorwill, as gray, rolling wind-clouds 
came tumbling out of the west, followed by black 
clouds that promised a drenching rain. The 
Scouts had all they could do to prevent the wind 
from driving the house-boat on to the shore. It 
got fully as dark as night ; it thundered and light- 
ened, bolts crashing into the swaying trees, and 
the rain threshed in fury on the roof and against 
the windows. Then — suddenly the downpour 


142 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


stopped; the clouds were gone to the east, tum- 
bling over one another, and sending back low, 
distant rumblings ; the sun came out and made a 
rainbow over the sky and everything stood out 
clear and bright and fresh, the heat and sultriness 
quite drowned out. And all was begun and ended 
in a space of less than ten minutes. 

The Scouts climbed to the hurricane deck. 

“Hurrah!’’ shouted Phil. 

“All right, I’m willing — go ahead,” said Ray, 
coming up the ladder. ‘ ‘ Only I thought you ’d had 
enough excitement to do you a while.” 

“Aw, cut it, you grouch!” returned Phil. 

It was nearing four o’clock when Wayne and 
Slicky manned the sweeps and worked the Whip- 
poorwill over to the head of a narrow island on 
the left shore. 

The scoutmaster spread out the chart, which 
showed a low, flat country, much channeled with 
sloughs and creeks, back of the islands on the east 
of the river channel; on the right wooded bluffs 
towered, scarcely a quarter of a mile back from 
shore. 

“Well, Scouts,” began Mr. Maclay, “what do 
you say to this place for a spell of exploring and 
so on?” 

It would make a queer looking page, and diffi- 
cult reading, to make a correct record of all the 
Scouts had to say in the space of ten seconds. 


EIVER AND LAND SCOUTING 143 


said the scoutmaster, “see what you 
can do in an hour, and at council to-night wedl 
organize for a few days’ exploring.” 

The Scouts divided into two parties and pushed 
off in the skiffs ; Ray, Charles, Bert and Slicky go- 
ing up the river to investigate Smoot’s Chute and 
the unnavigated portion of the river to the east of 
Long Island; Wayne, Leslie, Phil and Joe going 
down, to satisfy their curiosity regarding a creek 
that opened on the west shore of the Mississippi 
a mile below. 

It being but a mile row down, Wayne’s crew 
made it in short order. Rowing into the mouth 
they soon got between the hills and the two pairs 
of oars bore the skiff a half mile westward up to 
the bend, where rocky shoals made the passage 
difficult for a hundred feet or more. Thence, 
climbing the narrowing stream northward above 
a mile, they got to the head of navigation. Here 
nestled a pool into which two small streams tum- 
bled from northeast and northwest down the hills. 

Leaving the skiff, a hasty climb got them to the 
top of the hill. Here the Scouts had a view 
through the trees, down on to the Mississippi. 
With the help of their glasses they could see the 
opening into Smoot ’s Chute, two and a half miles 
northeast. But the Whippoorwill, to the east, was 
hid behind intervening hills. 

“I’m going to ask the scoutmaster to let us 


144 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


make a camp and a wireless station here,’^ de- 
clared Wayne. 

‘‘There’s Ray’s boat,” said Joe, “coming out 
of the Chute.” 

“Sure!” said Wayne, his eyes to the binoculars. 
“It’s too far to see who’s rowing.” 

The return voyage was made in half the time. 
Ray’s crew was aboard the house-boat. He re- 
ported having looked on a region back of Long 
Island that seemed rich as a field for voyages of 
exploration, with all its smaller islands and la- 
goons, as shown on the chart. 

It was decided at evening council that Wayne’s 
crew should establish a camp on the hills visited ; 
Ray’s crew should remain on the Whippoorwill, 
and make voyages back of Long Island ; the crews 
were to change places at the end of two days. 
Each crew provided itself with an enlarged map 
of the region, taken from the chart of the river; 
part of the scouting activity was to be a filling in 
on the map of interesting features discovered, 
kind of growth, birds, and animals observed, and’ 
the like. 

When Wayne’s crew pushed off in the morn- 
ing, exchanging salutes with those left behind on 
board the Whippoorwill, the skiff was laden with 
tent, wire, instruments, provisions for two days, 
and utensils for camp cookery. Arrived at the 
pool, the things were carried to the top of the 


RIVER AND LAND SCOUTING 145 

hill and the forester tent was set up hack west- 
ward. 

Then came putting the wireless set into commis- 
sion. Wayne climbed high in an old maple and to 
a stout limb he made fast a small pulley. Through 
this he passed a light rope, running the end to the 
ground. It was seized by Joe, who by means of 
it pulled the aerial wires aloft. It took Phil but a 
few minutes to lop off with his ax such branches 
as were in the way. By the time this was done, 
Wayne had descended to the ground and got the 
instruments in shape for use. And then there 
went flashing forth signals : 

‘‘RR, RR, RR, WS ; RR, RR, RR, WS ; RR, RR, 
RR, WS.’’ 

Wajme waited. No reply. So he repeated the 
call. Again and again he worked the key of the 
wireless. More than a quarter of an hour passed 
ere he picked up the return. 

^‘WS, WS, WS, RR,’’ it came. 

‘‘Why were you not on the job?” Wayne sent. 
“Have called a long time.” 

“Did not dream you were set up so soon,” 
came Ray’s answer. “Slicky, Charles and Bert 
gone in boat.” 

“We have work. Any more?” sent Wayne. 

“N M,” came from Ray. 

“ G M, ” ended Wayne. 

By ten o’clock the camp was declared fit by the 


146 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


boys and Leslie, Phil and Joe started off among 
the hills to the north, each carrying a small copy 
of the large map, on which to record observations 
temporarily. Wayne remained to guard camp, 
and to use the time he set himself to fishing down 
in the pool. 

On each hour (as had been agreed) he would 
visit the wireless, to receive or send messages, as 
occasion required. 

By noon, when the three Scouts returned to 
camp, Wayne had raked a few glowing coals from 
the fire between two flat stones, over which he had 
some small fish sizzling in the pan. 

Bay’s crew spent the day exploring among the 
sloughs and islands, covering five miles in all. 
They got back to the Whippoorwill at five and 
were some surprised to see the scoutmaster setting 
up a little folding canvas canoe preparatory to 
going a voyage alone. 

Very soon Bay was at the wireless instrument. 
‘‘WS, WS, WS, BB,” he signaled. When he got 
his reply, he sent this message : 

‘‘Set an extra plate for supper. ” 

“What for?” came from Wayne. 

“NM” (no more). Bay terminated the ex- 
change. And it was not Wayne’s way to insist. 

The four Scouts in the camp on the hill kept a 
watch of the bend in the creek below the pool ; and 
when a dainty little canoe appeared bearing the 


EIVER AND LAND SCOUTING 147 


scoutmaster, the boys were taken a good deal by 
surprise — it was Ray they had expected. They 
saluted and scrambled down to the pool to lift on 
shore and marvel over the bit of a vessel. 

‘‘Well, Scouts,^’ said Mr. Maclay, “you didn’t 
know we had so many boats attached to the Whip- 
poorwill, did you?” 

“No,” said Phil. “Where was it?” 

‘ ‘ Under the scoutmaster ’s bunk, my lad. W ell, 
is supper ready? That piece of stiff paddling has 
started some kind of an appetite.” 

So they climbed to the camp. 

The meal over, the Scouts escorted their leader 
over to the brow of the hill and showed off their 
river view. At sunset, immediately the colors had 
been lowered, the scoutmaster re-embarked. As 
the little canoe disappeared round the bend, 
Wayne hurried up to the wireless and sent the fol- 
lowing : 

“Row to mouth of creek to escort your scout- 
master to headquarters.” 

The Scouts busied themselves with making en- 
tries on the big crew map until nine o ’clock, when 
all turned in but Leslie, whose watch was to be 
from nine to eleven. At eleven he roused Phil, at 
one came Bert, at three Wayne and Ray exchanged 
greetings, to mark the beginning of the last watch 
of the night. At five, Wayne called Ray again. 

“Did you see the sunrise?” 


148 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘Yes; glad I stayed awake,’’ sent back Ray. 
“The river is rising fast — must have been big 
rains up north.” 

After another day at the camp Wayne’s crew 
voyaged back to the Whippoorwill, while Ray’s 
took their places on the hill. 


CHAPTEE XIII 


THE CYCLONE AND THE STEAMBOAT 

T he Mississippi had continued to rise, 
nearly as much as two feet in a day; 
which spoke of heavy weather up north. 
The scoutmaster began to talk of the possibility 
of storms coming to the region traversed by the 
Whippoorwill. And they came. 

On the afternoon of the day in question, Joe 
Hunt was on duty on the Whippoorwill; Slicky 
kept guard at the camp on the hill; Wayne, Leslie 
and Phil had made their way up the lagoon to In- 
dian Grave Lake ; Kay, Charles and Bert were ex- 
ploring to the northwest of their camp in the 
hills. As it was nearing five, gray, rolled clouds 
tumbled up over the western horizon. 

Slicky noted them from his point of vantage on 
the hill. ‘ ‘ Looks like a big storm, ’ ’ he said ; and 
he wondered if Joe and the scoutmaster, on the 
Whippoorwill, were aware of the menace. He got 
to the key of the wireless, in the hope that they 
might have got some inkling in spite of the hills, 
and J oe would be seeking to communicate. Slicky 
listened-in a moment, and then he began to call 

149 


150 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


the Whippoorwill; but there came no response. 
Yet he continued. 

Down below, Joe, out on the deck of the Whip- 
poorwill, sniffed something unusual in the air, and 
called to the scoutmaster, who looked into the sky 
and noted birds swiftly flying, as to shelter. 

‘‘I believe a storm’s brewing,” he said. Pres- 
ently he turned to Joe. 

‘‘Better try for Eobert on the wireless ; he may 
be able to see. ’ ’ 

Joe climbed down to the instrument. He got 
Slicky ’s call, and answered. 

“Wind-storm coming,” came from Slicky. 
“Looks bad.” 

Owing to Slicky ’s inexperience with the wire- 
less, his sending was rather slow. In the mean- 
time the clouds became visible to Mr. Maclay, who 
looked in to Joe, saying: 

“We must move the Whippoorwill; it’s going to 
be a stiff blow.” 

“Wait,” Joe flashed back to Slicky. 

Then he hustled out. The scoutmaster had al- 
ready untied the mooring ropes, and it took but a 
few minutes to get the house-boat farther down 
into the narrow strait between Long Island and 
the towhead, so that it lay sheltered by the latter. 
Joe hurried back to the wireless, and got a mes- 
sage from Bay’s hand. 

Ray and comrades had glimpsed the storm 


THE CYCLONE AND STEAMBOAT 151 


clouds as well, and had hurried back to camp, to 
find Slicky crouched at the wireless, waiting to 
hear again from Joe. He turned the receiver 
over to Ray. 

“Does Joe know the storm’s coming?” said Ray, 
adjusting the receiver to his ear. 

“Yes,” said Slicky, “I told him. They may be 
moving the Whippoorwill; the last he said was, 
‘Wait.’ ” 

Then came Joe ’s call again. While the two con- 
versed in wireless flashes, Slicky hurried over to 
the brow of the hill with field glasses, to watch for 
Wayne and crew to come rowing out of Smoot’s 
Chute, on the return to the Whippoorwill, He 
saw a steamer puffing its way down the channel, 
but Wayne’s boat did not show up. 

Charles and Bertie drove in the tent stakes 
somewhat tighter. 

Then, suddenly, the storm was upon them with a 
roar. The trees bent, limbs tumbled, some trees 
cracked and crashed to the ground. 

Slicky crouched at the foot of an elm, and turned 
his glasses on the steamer, now almost opposite 
the entrance of Smoot’s Chute, two miles distant. 
Directly, he saw some whirling objects in the air. 
The cyclone moved in a path across the river, 
straight toward the steamer. 

‘ ‘ Cyclone ! Steamer I ’ ’ yelled Slicky. 

Charles and Bertie rushed forward as Slicky 


152 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


repeated the call. Charlie relayed the information 
to Bay, who sent it by wireless to Joe on the Whip- 
poorwill — ^‘Cyclone! Steamer!^’ 

Then Slicky saw that writhing maelstrom of 
things strike the steamer. He saw the pilot-house 
twist and soar aloft in the vortex, and after a few 
violent turns, it struck on a wee island, off the 
mouth of the chute. He saw a life-boat spinning 
like a top, as it sailed across the head of Long 
Island. He saw what appeared to be the body of 
a man heaved up from the steamer and hurled 
across the little island. And other objects joined 
in that great tumbling confusion. And all oc- 
curred in the space of a moment. 

‘^Pilot-house gone! Boat across island! Man 
carried otf ! ^ ’ called Slicky. 

Charles and Bertie transmitted the intelligence 
to Bay, calling at the top of their voices through 
the roar. Bay, in turn, flashed the news through 
space to Joe, who repeated it all aloud to the 
scoutmaster, who then seized up a signal flag, 
scrambled ashore and hurried across Long Island, 
a quarter of a mile, hoping for sight of Wayne and 
his crew. 

Wayne ’s boat had taken shelter behind the point 
of an island at the inner terminus of Smooths 
Chute. The cyclone passed just to the north, 
missing them by a hair’s-breadth. The boys 
looked with aweful eyes as the whirling objects 



^‘Suddenly the storm was upon them with a roar” 

Page 151 







THE CYCLONE AND STEAMBOAT 153 


rioted onward above the foaming water. In a 
few moments it was gone. 

Then came four shrill whistles. Wayne an- 
swered the scoutmaster ^s call, and leveling his 
glasses, made him out a mile down Long Island 
shore. Mr. Maclay waved his signal flag, and in 
a very short space, Wayne had the gist of the news 
regarding the steamer. He signaled back that he 
understood; and then running toward the skiff, 
he said to his comrades : 

‘‘A steamer opposite the chute lost its pilot- 
house — and a boat — and a man. ’ ^ 

Straightway, the Scouts were rowing swiftly up 
the chute. At the bend they came upon a man 
seated at the shore, drenched, and nursing a 
bruised shoulder. They took him into the boat. 
He said he was the steamer ^s mate, and had been 
carried off from the Texas by the cyclone. The 
place where he fell into the chute was at least a 
quarter of a mile from the steamer, which he said 
lay just outside the tow-head. 

When the Scouts rowed out of the chute into the 
main river, they found the wounded steamer, 
Windsor^ driven onto a sand-bar, close to Long 
Island. And they arrived just in time to witness 
men aboard having all they could do to restrain a 
woman, who seemed to be struggling to throw her- 
self into the water. The men were having a very 
desperate time. 


154 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘Oh, Benny! Oh, my baby!^^ she called. Her 
anguish was heart-racking. 

Her little one had been left on the deck, alone, 
strapped in his baby-carriage, the nurse having 
gone within for a wrap for her shoulders. It was 
then the steamer was struck. The cyclone had 
carried away both baby and carriage. 

Wayne offered to take the mother into his boat 
and search for the little one on the now more quiet 
river; though the quest was likely to prove vain. 
The woman eagerly accepted, almost leaping into 
the boat, and became more master of herself. As 
they moved down the stream, they saw Ray’s boat 
coming. 

When Slicky had called out the last tidings of 
the steamer, he ran back to camp, and Ray threw 
down the receiver as he finished sending, and 
called : 

“Scouts, to the boat!” 

The voyage down the creek was made with a 
rush. Turning up into the river current, the 
water boiled behind the skiff, as Charles and 
Slicky lay to their oars. They could see the 
steamer, minus the pilot-house, lying close to the 
upper end of Long Island. Then, as they ap- 
proached the small island close to the Whippoor- 
will, they discerned a queer object floating toward 
them. Coming closer, they made it out to be a 
baby buggy. It lay on its side, wheels toward the 


THE CYCLONE AND STEAMBOAT 155 


Scouts’ skiff, and leisurely floating with the cur- 
rent. 

Bert, in the bow, gave a start and said : 

‘ ‘ I just saw a hand let go one of the wheels. ’ ’ 

Two swift strokes brought the boat near. 
Slicky dropped his oars and dove. Kay scrambled 
forward, seized and righted the carriage, bring- 
ing to light the unconscious little body, tightly 
strapped in. With help, he pulled buggy and all 
into the boat, just as Slicky came up empty- 
handed. But at the next try below water he 
brought to view another body — that of a man. 

The Scouts dragged him into the boat, and as he 
rolled over, he gave up a quantity of water and 
opened his eyes. He had but just succumbed. 
This was the steamer’s pilot. 

While Charles and Bert rowed toward the shore 
of the narrow island, Ray worked over the baby, 
but no sign of life could he get in the little body. 

They had barely landed when Wayne’s boat, 
bearing the mother, touched the shore, and Wayne 
hurried forward. Directing the Scouts to hold 
the mother away, he seized the baby by the two 
ankles. 

‘ ‘ Get your finger on its tongue, ’ ’ he said to Ray, 
‘ ‘ and pull it forward. ’ ’ 

Then Wayne held the baby suspended, head 
downward, and jounced it up and down. A gush 
of water went over Ray’s hand. Then laying the 


156 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


little one on its back on the sand, Wayne seized 
the arms and endeavored to pump life into the 
young body. 

The minutes passed. The frantic mother strug- 
gled with those who held her back ; and she called 
on her baby by name. Five minutes passed — ten 
minutes, and no sign of life. Yet Wayne per- 
sisted — desperately. The others suffered his an- 
guish of non-success. What a heart-torn group on 
that river shore! The mother calmed, no longer 
in need of restraint, as she realized what hung in 
the balance. 

Wayne’s struggle went on. It seemed hours to 
those waiting. 

Then, at the last — a whimper, ever so faint. 
The mother gave a cry, and fainted. She was 
gently tended, and when she opened her eyes, her 
weakly crying babe was put into her eagerly fold- 
ing arms. 

The two cried together, the one from joy, the 
other from some pain and discomfort beyond its 
understanding. 

The anguish was gone from all those faces, in- 
cluding Joe and the scoutmaster, who had come 
over from the Whippoorwill in the little folding 
canoe. It was become a joyful party at last. 

The relief turned minds to explanations, and the 
pilot told his story: How he had stood at the 


THE CYCLONE AND STEAMBOAT 157 


wheel watching the coming cyclone, and how he 
had pulled the bell for full steam ahead, hoping to 
run out of its path ; how he felt himself jerked from 
the wheel, when the pilot-house about him was torn 
off the Texas and whirled aloft; how, dizzily, he 
spun in the air, and dropped into the river ; how he 
had spied the baby buggy with its precious bur- 
den, afloat on its side; how he had swum to it, 
weak and head spinning from the violence of his 
treatment; how he had seized the wheels and 
righted the baby carriage to keep the baby above 
water, thus at the same time helping himself in his 
weakness; how at last the darkness of eternity 
seemed to be overwhelming him, and how he had 
awakened in the Scouts’ boat. 

The mother was hysterical with happiness, and 
tormented the pilot and the Scouts with her dis- 
play of gratitude, till they begged her to say no 
more about it. 

‘‘Why, my good woman,” said the pilot, “look 
at those Scouts. You see we’re almost as happy 
as yourself over the preservation of the little fel- 
low. ’ ’ 

All rowed to the steamer. The flown life-boat 
was found far in the island, above Smoot’s Chute, 
near a mile from where it had been lifted by the 
cyclone from the deck of the steamer. 

Four of the Scouts set off up the creek for the 


158 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


tent and camp equipage on the hill, for it was 
planned to resume the voyage in the morning. 
And it was a tired, but happy lot of Scouts that 
turned in, all on the Whippoorwill, that night. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE ‘‘whippoorwill^’ IN DANGER 

HE sun rose to shine on a tranquil river. 



The Scouts got out from their bunks at 


six. Ray and Leslie, as boatswain’s 
crew, had much to do to set things aright on board 
the Whippoorwill; Charles and Phil got the skiffs 
on a sand-bar and gave them a thorough laving in- 
side and out; Wayne and Slicky gave a hand to 
the boatswain ’s crew. All things were ship-shape 
when Joe and Bert sounded the call to breakfast. 
Then at eight, up went the colors, and soon the 
house-boat was abroad on the old Mississippi 
again, carrying the Scouts to new scenes and new 
adventures. 

“The river’s rising fast,” said Phil; “the bar 
is almost covered up. ’ ’ 

“Nine inches since last night,” offered Slicky, 
who had set a mark to record the river’s changing 
level. 

The two crews of Scouts got out their maps and 
completed filling in their marks of observation, in- 
cluding the path of the cyclone. 

“Let’s get Joe to draw a picture on the map,”* 


159 


160 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


said Ray, ‘‘of the steamboat and the pilot-house 
and the mate whirling round in the air and the 
baby buggy and all, as it happened.” 

Before the day was over, Joe had begun. 

When the city of Quincy loomed into view, Ray 
and Leslie rowed Charles into town for provisions 
to replenish the larder. And here, too, they got 
letters from home. 

As the Scouts floated onward amidst the new 
and everchanging river scenes, the exciting adven- 
ture of the day before began to seem a long way 
back in time. Phil lay on the hurricane deck, his 
chin in his hands, looking across the peaceful 
water to some cattle feeding on tender willow 
sprouts that grew in an eddy. 

“I never want any excitement again,” he said. 

“A sure sign a storm’s brewing,” declared 
Ray. “You’ll be whistling for a hurricane in ten 
minutes. ’ ’ 

And in response, as often it seems to happen, 
clouds crept up out of the west ; a wind came and 
increased steadily ; a drizzling rain began to slap 
the windows. 

In time the waves were heaving big. The strong 
current bore the house-boat onward at a good 
pace, soon bearing down toward an island whose 
dirt bank rose high and sheer. Under pressure of 
wind, wave and flood, the Whippoorwill was driven 
directly toward this bank, which was being under- 


THE ‘‘WHIPPOORWILL’^ IN DANGER 161 


mined by the rising river so that great masses 
toppled over into the angry stream. 

“To the anchor!” called the scoutmaster, seeing 
the peril. 

The anchor was dragged forth on its hawser and 
thrown overboard. When it caught on the bottom 
the house-boat swutig perilously near the high 
bank. Should the anchor cable break, the Whip- 
poorwill was certain to be precipitated against 
that towering cliff of unstable earth. One look at 
the situation, and the scoutmaster turned to the 
now tense faces about him. 

“Charles, Phil, get the skiffs ready to cast off — 
on the outside. Wayne, Robert, remain with me. 
The rest of you collect what is most valuable; 
divide it among you, and be ready to take to the 
boats at the first call.” 

The scoutmaster, Wayne and Slicky on the after 
deck kept watch of the tottering bank and the an- 
chor cable. 

“If a big mass should topple,” said Mr. Mac- 
lay, “it is sure to swamp us. We can only wait 
and hope till the wind goes down — or this other 
thing happens.” 

An hour passed thus — five o ’clock — and the situ- 
ation had changed not a jot. Six o’clock brought 
no relief. Sundown. The wind seemed to in- 
crease rather than abate. Joe made some tea and 
sandwiches. The Scouts sat clad — hats on — ready 


162 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


to rush to the boats. Hour after hour passed. 
Anxiety kept all silent, or speaking now and then 
almost in whispers. Each knew that if the Whip- 
poorwill should be swamped under tons of dirt 
and they must take to the boats, there was much 
question whether the skitfs could live in that tur- 
bulent sea. The night was too black to discern the 
bank and the rain continued to patter on the roof 
and windows; the Whippoorwill plunged and 
chafed at the cable. 

So the night went. And oh, such a long night ! 

Four o’clock came; the clock struck with its 
usual regularity, as though unmindful of the peril. 
Presently a hint of day showed in the east. The 
wind seemed to be losing some of its force, and 
hope began to creep into the Scouts ’ hearts. 

But then came a call from Slicky. The house- 
boat shook under a powerful blow and all were 
suddenly climbing with a swift precision, but with- 
out panic, into the boats just as the Whippoorwill 
was righting herself from her cant resulting from 
the avalanche. 

When it became evident that the Whippoorwill 
had recovered, the Scouts got back on board again. 
The shore gradually became visible under the 
growing light of day. The waves began to lose 
some of their choppiness, though big swells still 
tossed the house-boat. The overhanging bank 
still threatened. 


THE WHIPPOORWILL^’ IN DANGER 163 


‘‘Can’t we try to pull her off with the boats, 
now?” came from Wayne, who looked into the 
face of the scoutmaster. 

Mr. Maclay considered. Then finally, “I think 
we will try it, ’ ’ he said. 

So ropes were made fast to the post at the stem 
(up river) and coiled in the skiffs, and all but 
Slicky and Joe got into the boats and pushed off 
with much difficulty, two in each rowing, the third 
manning the rope. Then the scoutmaster called, 
‘ ‘ All ready ! ’ ’ and the oarsmen pulled hard in the 
tossing boats, as Slicky, Joe and Mr. Maclay 
hauled in on the anchor cable. 

Then, when finally the anchor came up, there 
came the “tug of war.” 

“With all your might. Scouts!” called the 
scoutmaster, and Joe and Slicky rushed to the 
sweeps at the bow. 

At first it seemed the house-boat would surely 
crash into the towering bank, but then at last it 
swung clear, and in a minute the strong current 
carried the WMppoortvill past the little island and 
out of the danger. 

What a group of relieved and happy faces! 
Wlien the six Scouts had been helped aboard out 
of the tossing skiffs, without a word of prompting, 
they let out, shrilly, the patrol call. And then 
came news of clamoring appetites, with “eats,” 
though simple, that never did taste better. 


164 BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 

Soon all but the boatswain’s crew were sleeping 
tranquilly. 

At five Charles and Phil, with the scoutmaster’s 
help, moored the house-boat to the river side, fifty 
yards above a fisherman’s shanty, and Mr. Mac- 
lay had the two lie down with the rest. 

Wayne finally opened his eyes to see the sun 
streaming in through the window. Something 
had awakened him and he propped himself on his 
elbow to listen. Slicky and J oe poked their heads 
up as well. 

“It’s a fiddle,” declared Slicky. 

“Some one playing the ‘Virginia Eeel,’ ” said 
Joe. 

While Wayne and Slicky got at breakfast in the 
galley, Ray and Leslie went to visit the fiddler, 
whom they discovered in the shanty below. Wlien 
they returned at the breakfast call, they brought a 
bit of intelligence that set Wayne’s interest on 
edge. 

“Say, Wayne,” began Ray, “you’ll have to go 
and see that fisherman. He ’s got a story about a 
queer fellow who’s hunting for Marvin Blaisdell. 
I noticed his boat — made just like that one we saw 
Marvin Blaisdell have. I told him I ’d seen a man 
by the name of Blaisdell with a boat like it, and he 
said, ‘Well, it ought to be, because it’s the own 
sister to it, for he and Marvin Blaisdell built 
them together.’ ” 


THE ‘‘WHIPPOORWILL^^ IN DANGER 165 


“You know,’’ broke in Wayne, “Mr. Blaisdell 
said he was near Hannibal ten years ago.” 

‘ ‘ Might know, ’ ’ declared Ray, ‘ ‘ you ’d remember 
everything Marvin Blaisdell said. But then this 
fisherman wanted to know where I saw Blaisdell, 
said there was a queer chap looking for him — had 
something for him from somebody by the name of 
Britton.” 

‘ ‘ Something about the key to the cryptograph ! ’ ’ 
broke in the now excited Wayne. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE CAVE 

W AYNE allowed nothing to delay his go- 
ing to seek the fiddling fisherman. He 
found his man sawing away at ‘‘ Wil- 
son ^s Clog.’^ 

“Yes/’ said the fisherman in response to 
Wayne’s question. “The chap is staying down 
at Miller’s shack — King’s Island, three miles 
down. He’s got malaria — a chill every other day 
— and he’s got some kind of message for Marvin 
Blaisdell; expected to find him here. But, bless 
you! I ain’t seen Blaisdell this eight years.” 

Wayne hurried back to the scoutmaster with the 
news. 

“Well, Wayne,” began Mr. Maclay, “I approve 
of your interest in this thing, and we’ll see what 
we can do to help. So let’s get down to King’s 
Island.” 

By nine o ’clock the house-boat had passed Han- 
nibal and approached King’s Island. Then as 
the Scouts made a mooring a little above another 
fisherman’s shack, they saw a man push a boat off 
from the landing and row away as if some one’s 

16G 


THE CAVE 167 

life depended on his getting somewhere. He 
went toward the opposite or Missouri shore. 

Wayne made his way to the hut of Mr. Miller, 
fisherman, and was hospitably met by a good- 
appearing young man and wife and a pair of chil- 
dren. 

“Yes,’’ said Mr. Miller, “the man you mean 
just ran otf in the boat. He’s got an idea in his 
head, it looks like, that some one’s after him. 
He’s a queer proposition. Once before, when 
somebody came to see me, he went otf like that. 
He’s been here three weeks. He came inquiring 
about Blaisdell, and I told him about Fifield you 
saw three miles up river, who knows Blaisdell. 
He ’s had chills and fever every other day since he 
came. To-day’s his off day; to-morrow he’ll 
have another spell. We’ve been taking pity on 
the poor fellow.” 

“We know Marvin Blaisdell,” explained 
Wayne, “and know where he is.” 

“Well, I reckon Boggs (that’s his name) will 
be glad to see you, ’ ’ said the fisherman. “ I ’ll row 
over after a while and hunt him up.” 

When the fisherman returned from his quest he 
reported having found the skiff Boggs rowed over 
in, below Cave Hollow, tied to a tree, but could not 
find Boggs. 

It was decided to wait for the fellow to appear. 
From time to time Wayne, Slicky and Mr. Miller 


168 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


scanned the shore down on the Missouri side, using 
glasses ; hut no Boggs appeared. When finally it 
grew dark Mrs. Miller showed uneasiness. 

‘‘Poor fellow,’’ she said, “he might not come 
back to-night, and he’ll have another chill in the 
morning. ’ ’ 

Thereupon the Scouts rowed over and searched 
in the dark for an hour, but got no sign of the man. 

Then in the morning Wayne and Slicky went 
over alone. They began where the fisherman’s 
boat had lain and examined the ground carefully 
all about. They found prints of Boggs’s pointed 
shoes in the mud close by and again in the sand 
at a point below ; then no more of them could they 
see. 

The rugged hills began their ascent right at the 
water’s edge. Slicky presently had got himself 
up high on a ledge, searching for signs, from 
whence finally he called to Wayne who hurriedly 
climbed to where Slicky stood pointing to a foot- 
print in a bit of bare ground. 

“That’s his,” declared Wayne, “the pointed 
toe.” 

Then the search was on in eager earnest. 
Wayne had no doubt the man was hiding, and 
that by now he must be prostrated with a spell 
of chills as prophesied by the fisherman’s wife. 

Nearly two hours the hunt had gone on on the 


THE CAVE 


169 


hillside, amidst rocks and brush, when Wayne 
came to a stop on a flat a little way up the hill. 
He had discovered loose rocks with fresh, moist 
dirt on one side. Looking up to see whence they 
had come, he noted a clump of brush twenty feet 
above. 

‘ ^ Slicky ! ’ ’ he called. 

The two boys were soon climbing to the brush 
clump on the rough hillside. Wayne parted the 
bushes, half expecting to see his man crouched 
there in hiding. But instead his eyes looked on a 
hole in the rocks. It was barely large enough for 
two boys to squeeze in together. 

“He’s in there. I’ll bet!” declared Slicky. 

“I’m going in to see,” said Wayne. 

So he started to crawl in feet foremost, Slicky 
holding him by the hand lest there should be some 
kind of a pit. But the cave quickly enlarged and 
he found the floor comparatively level. 

Soon both Scouts were within and had made 
their way to a large chamber. 

“Hello !” called Wayne, and his voice echoed far 
back in the earth. 

“It’s a big cave,” said Slicky. 

“Yes,” said Wayne, “and I think it’s one I’ve 
read about. ’ ’ 

They ventured in perhaps a hundred yards, 
lighting matches and calling from time to time. 


170 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


But they got no reply. They discovered a branch 
passage and concluded it was unsafe to go farther 
lest they should get lost. 

‘‘I’m pretty sure he’s in here,” said Wayne, 
“and maybe he can’t find his way out. We’ll go 
and get candles and help. ’ ’ 

The boys crawled out and got down to the shore 
where they whistled to the Whippoorwill, a mile 
up the other side of the river. When they got an 
answer they flagged a message to bring candles, 
ropes and all the fishlines. 

They hadn’t long to wait till Bay, Leslie and 
Joe arrived in the other skiff. 

“Well, what do you want with candles?” said 
Bay. “Are you going to have a Christmas tree ? ’ ’ 
“You’re rushing. Thanksgiving comes first,” 
said Wayne. “And between you and me, Bay, 
I’ve got a hunch the widow Albright is going to 
have a big turkey on that day. ’ ’ 

“ ’Twouldn’t be you,” shot back Bay, “if you 
didn ’t talk round the bush — with your mysterious 
stuff.” 

The other Scouts were properly excited when 
they were shown the cave. Candles were set 
alight and big balls of fishline unwound as Wayne 
and Slicky led the way into two of the branching 
passageways of the cavern. 

Leslie and Bay were stationed just within the 


THE CAVE 


171 


cave’s mouth paying out the lines, when they heard 
a whistle from the shore below. They answered 
and in a moment there appeared the rest of the 
Scouts with the scoutmaster and the fisherman who 
climbed to the cave. 

‘^Well, this is getting exciting,” admitted Mr. 
Maclay. 

Candle in hand, he hurried along Wayne’s line 
and soon stood by the patrol leader, who told him 
how the recently dislodged rocks had pointed the 
way. 

“I think you’re right, Wayne,” he said. 
‘‘Doubtless he’s here and is lost, poor fellow.” 

With the help of the lines which the Scouts 
were warned not to lose hold of, the search went 
on hour after hour; the Scouts seemed to travel 
miles back into the earth. Bert and Charles were 
sent to town for more candles and line ; the fisher- 
man went home for sandwiches and cold tea. 

First Slicky found marks of Boggs ’s shoes, then 
Wayne came upon like prints going ever deeper 
into the hills. Finally a loud call seemed to bring 
a faint answer. Wayne stopped to listen. Bay at 
his back. 

“Did you hear anything?” said Wayne. 

“No,” declared Bay. 

He called again and listened. AU he heard was 
his own echo, faintly sounding far away. Wayne 


172 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


moved forward again for some minutes, holding 
the line, wound round his hand, the candle in the 
other. He came to a stop again. 

‘‘Ahoy!’^ he called and listened. 

A faint call presently followed the echo. 

‘‘I heard it,’’ said Bay. 

*Ht might be a second echo,” suggested Wayne. 

‘‘No, it didn’t sound the same,” encouraged 
Ray. 

They hurried forward and without hallooing 
they distinctly heard a weak, plaintive call. 
Wayne called again as they plunged onward and 
the answer they heard grew more distinct as they 
went on. 

When finally they approached the spot whence 
the sound came, the candle faintly illumined a 
chamber of considerable size into which opened a 
number of lanes. A large bowlder and a number 
of smaller masses lay in the middle, and beside 
them there showed in the candle light the form of 
a man. A pair of small eyes looked up at the 
Scouts, showing fear as much as relief. An odd 
face it was, long, sharp nose, thin mouth, pointed 
chin with a few hairs of whiskers, and the man was 
plainly sick. 

“Follow the line back and bring some of the 
others,” said Wayne to Ray. 

And off went Ray. 


THE CAVE 173 

Wayne felt the man^s forehead, hot with fever. 

‘‘You got lost,’’ began Wayne. 

“Yes,” came the weak answer. 

“We’re going to help you,” said Wayne, and he 
spoke in a reassuring tone, for the look of fear 
still persisted in the man’s eyes. “You needn’t 
hunt for Marvin Blaisdell any more, for we know 
him and Just where he is.” Wayne felt that the 
man should find this good news. 

“An’ haven’t you come to git me?” said the 
man, looking curiously on Wayne’s uniform. 
“Ain’t you officers — aire ye Jest boys?” 

“No,” said Wayne. “We’re Just Boy Scouts.” 

The man sighed and Wayne noted the relief in 
his eyes. 

Soon Ray arrived with the scoutmaster and Joe 
and Phil. Turn about, pairs of Scouts made seats 
of their hands, and carried the man, who was light 
of body. Now and then they gave him a sup of 
cold tea. The man showed a growing warmth to- 
ward Wayne, whenever his turn came to carry, 
like an animal that has been kindly treated. 

When they got to the end and could see the light 
of day through the little opening out of the side 
hill, they stopped to rest, and Ray and Leslie went 
to summon the other Scouts from the search. 

Wayne felt his coat sleeve pulled by Boggs and 
he stooped to let the sick man whisper in his ear. 


174 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘I hid a paper in the cave,’^ he said, and he 
made Wayne understand that he wished to keep 
the matter between themselves alone. 

‘‘You can trust Mr. Maclay,’’ appealed Wayne. 

The man took a moment to consider, and then 
nodded affirmation. 

Joe and Phil were sent out to cut poles for a 
stretcher, leaving the three alone. 


CHAPTEE XVI 

THE FUGITIVE'S STOKY GOOD-BY ‘ ‘ WHIPPOOEWILL ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ X T ELL, now, my man, ’ ^ said Mr. Maclay, 
‘‘you can talk freely to us.’’ 

“I kid the paper jest inside — here- 
abouts,” related Boggs. ‘‘I dug a hole with my 
knife and put it in. I went to sleep an’ woke up, 
bearin’ noises, an’ got scart, an’ dug up the paper 
an’ run in farther. I got to feelin’ the chills corn- 
in’ on; I heard more noises, got scart some one 
was a-comin ’, an ’ dug a hole an ’ buried the paper 
in. I don’t know how fur I was, but when I tried 
to find out where I hid it, I couldn ’t find the paper 
no more. I broke otf one o ’ them sharp things an ’ 
stuck up over it, but I couldn ’t find it nohow, an ’ 
all my matches give out. It’s the paper Mr. Brit- 
ton told me, ten year back, to give to Marvin 
Blaisdell, an’ I jest has got to git that paper.” 

The man trembled with excitement, as he dwelt 
on the realization of the loss, and Mr. Maclay tried 
to quiet him by a promise of his and Wayne’s help 
in a search. 

When the Scouts had all been called in, it was 
not a difficult job with so many hands to get the 

175 


176 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


sick man down to the boats. By the time they got 
back to King’s Island his spell of fever seemed to 
have run its course, leaving him stronger, 

Wayne had come to experience some discomfort 
of spirit over the man ’s evident fear of officers of 
law, so his relief was very considerable when it 
came out that evening that Boggs was innocent of 
any real crime. After supper, the scoutmaster 
and Wayne had the man alone between them in the 
fisherman ’s shack and got his story complete. He 
was quite ignorant of school learning, barely able 
to read simple words; and his speech was so un- 
couth that there will be no attempt to repeat his 
story in his own words. 

His name, he said, was George Washington Si 
Boggs ; he was born in the mountains of Arkansas, 
and when death had taken his only protector, his 
mother, he ran away from home. He had traveled 
far, and suffered much. In his search for work 
he saw, pretty generally, the cold shoulder, and 
was like to have starved, were it not that he found 
here and there such unpleasant tasks as others re- 
fused, and on rare occasions he met with those who 
had pity in their hearts. 

It was plain to Wayne that the poor fellow’s 
unprepossessing appearance had as much to do 
with his troubles as his misfortune of ignorance. 

Finally, he came across Thomas Britton, in 
Idaho, who gave him asylum, and treated him 


THE FUGITIVE'S STOEY 


177 


kindly. Britton kept a sort of roadside inn, and 
he kept Geo. W. Si Boggs to wait on him and re- 
lieve him of menial tasks. Britton had playful 
moods (as Boggses narrative evidenced) when he 
made himself king, and rigged up a rag doll on a 
stick with little brass beUs, and had Boggs play 
the king’s fool, making grimaces, and repeating 
foolish-wise phrases that he taught him. 

‘‘He said it was like they used to do hundreds 
o’ years ago,” explained Boggs. 

The scoutmaster recognized in these things 
Britton’s romantic nature, which accounted as well 
for his interest in Boggs’s queer makeup of face. 

Thomas Britton finally tired of his inn, and trav- 
eled to California, taking George Washington Si 
Boggs along with him. It was then that Britton 
sickened and Boggs became his nurse. 

When Britton came to see that his end was draw- 
ing near, he made Boggs somewhat his confidant, 
telling him how he had come into possession of his 
mansion on the Mississippi Biver ; and how he had 
made and secreted a paper that was to make resti- 
tution to the proper owners ; and of a secret writ- 
ing, telling the place of hiding, which he had sent 
to his friend, Marvin Blaisdell, fisherman, near 
Hannibal ; but that he still retained the key to this 
secret writing. He gave to Boggs the paper bear- 
ing this key and made him take an oath to deliver 
it faithfully with his own hand, and to make it 


178 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


known to no one but his friend Blaisdell. And 
when Britton should be dead, Boggs was to find 
sewn in his waistcoat five hundred dollars in bills, 
which he bequeathed to Boggs in return for his 
faithfulness in performing this last act for his 
benefactor. 

It was when Thomas Britton was laid out, await- 
ing the coffin, that Boggs was discovered in the act 
of extracting the five hundred dollars in bills from 
the waistcoat. He was accused of robbing the 
dead. Boggs refused to divulge the nature of the 
task for the performance of which he was to have 
the money, so he was sent to prison for ten years. 

Before nine years of his sentence had passed he 
succeeded in escaping with the paper still in his 
possession, hid in an amulet hung about his neck. 
Boggs had set out after all these years to perform 
the task he had sworn to do. In constant fear of 
capture, he had known much suffering in the 
months it had required to make his way to Hanni- 
bal. And as he neared the end of his journey he 
was taken with malaria. 

‘‘An’ now I lost thet paper up yandah,” he said, 
despair in his look. “His ghost’ll hant me! — his 
ghost ’ll hant me ! ” 

The scoutmaster put a friendly hand on Boggs’s 
shoulder. 

“Never mind, my poor man,” he said, “Wayne, 
here, will go with you to-morrow to hunt for it. 


THE FUGITIVE’S STOEY 


179 


Even if you don’t find it, maybe we’ll make out 
some way without it. You’ve done your best. 
You have been very faithful.” 

The whole of the next day, with the other 
Scouts’ help, and with lines and candles, Wayne 
and Boggs searched the cave, through miles of 
passages, it seemed. But all in vain. There 
seemed no end to those galleries, and a year’s 
search might not reveal to them the place. 

Boggs’s lamentations were pitiable, and Wayne 
was deeply moved. He promised the poor fellow 
that he would go to the widow Albright, who now 
had the secret writing, and that he would work 
months, if need be, to decipher it. And he prom- 
ised Boggs that he should be taken along, so that 
he might learn the result. 

When they returned to the Whippoorwill at dusk 
Boggs had some measure of cheer, which seemed 
to take its source in a growing faith in Wayne. A 
couch was made for him on the house-boat, and 
the scoutmaster dosed him with quinine to van- 
quish the malaria. 

Islands, hills, woods, fields, steamboats, fishers’ 
boats, buoys, dams continually passing in pano- 
rama lost none of their interest for the Scouts; 
and when the house-boat was moored, on succes- 
sive evenings near Louisiana, Mozier, and Tur- 
key Landing, they got ashore and explored with 
the same old vim. On July 29th they passed the 


180 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


mouth of the muddy Missouri in the afternoon; 
and before noon on the next they sighted the Eads 
bridge and the steamer-lined levee of St. Louis. 

‘‘Hooray!’^ shouted Phil. 

There was a great exhilaration in the scene. 
Tugs pulf ed billows of black smoke ; over the big 
arches of the great bridge streamed cars, a variety 
of other vehicles, and humans afoot. The clang- 
ing of locomotives^ bells and the tooting of their 
whistles added to the effect. The interminable 
rows of tall buildings with smoking chimneys told 
of the extent and complexity of the activity con- 
centrated there. 

‘^What are you hurrahing about, PhilU’ com- 
plained Ray. hope youTe not tired of the 
Whippoorwill.^* 

‘‘Aw, donT throw cold water,’’ returned Phil. 
“I’m trying to forget about that.” 

Wayne, too, suffered mixed feelings. He was 
torn between regret over quitting the house-boat 
and his eagerness to embark on the new task he 
had set himself. 

The Whippoorwill floated under the great 
bridge, passing the busiest portion of the levee, 
and found a mooring below in a region of poor 
shacks. 

For near two days they did the sights, and while 
they roamed about under the guidance of St. 
Louis Scouts there was being set in a gold scarf- 


THE FUGITIVE'S STORY 


181 


pin the little pearl Bertie Hill had found in the 
company of Marvin Blaisdell, to be presented to 
the scoutmaster as a souvenir and mark of grati- 
tude. The fox was presented to the zoological 
gardens ; and the pain of giving up the Whippoor- 
will was eased by transferring it to a troop of 
Scouts to use for their headquarters. They prom- 
ised to give it tender care. 

Then on August 2nd the Scouts placed their lug- 
gage in an express wagon and tramped fondly, if 
solemnly, all about the Whippoorwill for the last 
time. As they marched away (Geo. W. Si Boggs 
in tow) up the levee, they looked back from time to 
time, so long as it remained in view. Even Phil 
was properly subdued. Even the boat appeared 
dejected, as if abandoned by those it had observed 
faithfully. 

The river voyage with its excitements was done. 
But the river, in floating them in the way of Hiram 
Blaisdell, and Boggs, and the Cryptograph, had 
started them unawares toward new adventures. 
Wayne, particularly, was headed straight for a 
mystery. 


CHAPTER XVII 


EETUKN VOYAGE HIRAM BLAISDELL 

T one o’clock the Scouts and scoutmaster 



and Boggs were aboard the steamer St, 


Anthony, They took a turn back to see 
their two skiffs, stored on the Texas deck. The 
boats seemed a link between themselves and the 
Whippoorwill. At two, the pilot pulled the rope 
that set clanging the starting-bell below and the 
steamer set its bows into the current. 

Immediately the Scouts began to live over again 
their recent adventures on the great old Missis- 
sippi. The old scenes took on a fresh interest be- 
cause of a new point of view — ^looking up the river. 
But they had been such good observers under their 
scoutmaster’s guidance that they seldom failed to 
recognize familiar marks, even to the very trees 
to which the Whippoorwill had been made fast. 

They were up before daylight next morning, 
about the pilot-house. A little before six each 
Scout stood with his binoculars trained on the 
Missouri hills. 

‘ ‘ There it is ! ” said Slicky, pointing to a clump 
of bushes on the hillside. 

Boggs fairly trembled as he recollected the ter- 


182 


EETURN VOYAGE 183 

rible hours he had spent lost in the cave within 
those hills. 

‘‘And there’s Miller in his boat!” came from 
Eay, who had turned to the other side of the puff- 
ing steamer, now approaching King’s Island. 

‘ ‘ Ahoy, Miller ! ’ ’ yelled Phil, waving his arm. 

The fisherman looked up. “Howdy! Scouts,” 
he returned, grinning, and “Howdy! Boggs,” as 
he recognized his old acquaintance. 

‘ ‘ Howdy ! ’ ’ said Boggs. He walked toward the 
stern as if to keep his former benefactor as long 
as possible in view. 

The stop at Hannibal was short and as the 
steamboat again started there came the call to 
breakfast. But the Scouts refused (even Phil) to 
leave the deck till they had viewed the next land- 
mark, to which ten minutes of thumping of the 
paddle-wheels brought them. 

“There’s Turtle Island!” said Leslie. 

‘ ‘ Gee ! I ’ll never forget that night, ’ ’ said Bert. 

“Looks nke the high bank’s still crumbling 
away,” said Joe. 

“But it’s quiet now,” said Charles. “Looks 
now like there never could be any such waves as 
we saw that night. ’ ’ 

Noon found them passing the mouth of the 
creek, far up which they had camped on the hill 
four days ; directly they marked the spot against 
Long Island, where the Whippoorwill had berthed ; 


184 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


and then came the opening of Smoot’s Chute, 
where the cyclone had struck the steamer and 
brought the Scouts so exciting an experience. 

Late in the afternoon came the rapids, where the 
professor’s launch had bumped a hole in its hull 
and nearly sunk. It was nearing seven when the 
steamer passed Anvil Island. 

‘ ‘ We sure had royal sport there, ’ ’ said Bay. ‘ ‘ I 
wonder if those fellows have started their troop 
yet?” 

‘^Aw, sure, they started the very next day,” de- 
clared Slicky. ^ ‘ I know that kind. ’ ’ 

The Scouts were a bit sorry to miss Hickory 
Island, which they must pass in the night. 

‘H’d like to get another look at George Mack- 
inac Jackson and his Gil ’Lisbet’ ’ Ann,” declared 
Eay. 

At four o’clock in the morning, just after pass- 
ing Beaver Island, the home of Marvin Blaisdell, 
the steamer’s captain obligingly set Wayne, the 
scoutmaster, and Boggs ashore, at a small port. 
For it was their purpose to visit Marvin Blaisdell, 
to obtain what help he might be able to give — out 
of his acquaintance with the late Thomas Britton’s 
peculiarities — toward this new quest of Wayne’s. 
The three stood in the dark on the shore, as the 
steamer backed away. 

‘^Eegards to Mr. Blaisdell, Wayne,” called Eay. 

As soon as day came, the scoutmaster had little 


EETUEN VOYAGE 


185 


difficulty in borrowing a rowboat, and it took only 
a few minutes to row to Beaver Island and make 
shore at the old pearl fisher’s shack. They saw 
smoke issuing from the little black smokestack. 
Mr. Blaisdell’s face showed for a moment at the 
window, and then the door opened. 

‘‘Well, well!” he said, “who’d a thought to see 
you so soon again. You’re just in time for a cup 
of hot coffee.” 

When the guests gathered around the table and 
the fisherman had been made acquainted with Geo. 
W. Si Boggs and his story of the tribulations of 
his mission, he was properly astonished. 

“Little did I suspect,” said he, “when I opened 
my eyes this morning, that I should this day hear 
again from Thomas Britton. And so you’ve been 
ten years getting to me ; and to think that after all 
this time, and trouble, and the paper so near to 
my hand — it should disappear! It looks like 
fate.” 

Poor Boggs showed signs of distress. 

“Ah, my poor man,” said Blaisdell, “there’s no 
blame to you. You have done faithfully, yes, most 
faithfully — ^when you gave up your liberty rather 
than break faith by telling your mission.” 

“I mean to petition the governor of California 
for his pardon,” said Mr. Maclay. “When he 
learns the whole story, he’ll not refuse.” 

And then the scoutmaster told of Wayne’s am- 


186 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


bition to tackle the cryptograph, whose solution 
should discover the hidden deed. 

Marvin Blaisdell turned to the Scout. 

‘‘God bless you, my boy,’’ he said. “I hope 
you’ll succeed. Hard enough I worked on the 
secret writing, and hard enough have others; 
Satan seemed to have been in Britton w^hen he 
wrote that thing. You are very young, but you 
have a fine, intelligent face. No telling — you 
might succeed, but it’ll be a hard job — a hard job.” 

The scoutmaster questioned Blaisdell — ^Wayne 
listening eagerly — as to Britton’s peculiarities. 

“Britton was very romantic,” said Marvin 
Blaisdell. “He read most of the romantic writ- 
ers, but aside from some general talk about Poe, 
who was an adept in such things, he never said 
anything about secret writings. ’ ’ He turned 
again to Wayne. “I’m sorry, my lad, that I 
know nothing more. But I see you have a deter- 
mined chin ; maybe you ’ll succeed by persistence. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said the scoutmaster, “Wayne won’t 
give in easily. And then he has a strong incen- 
tive; he took greatly to heart your story of John 
Albright’s irregular loss of that fine homestead, 
and the widow’s sorrow and hopes of regaining it. 
And then came Boggs and his troubles to clinch 
matters.” 

After dinner, Blaisdell got a launch and took his 
friends to Blair; and a train carried them home. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE WIDOW AL.BEIGHT 

A t the Scouts’ gate, the scoutmaster and 
Boggs — who was to lodge with Mr. Mac- 
lay — bade Wayne good-night. 

‘‘Come to headquarters after dinner to-mor- 
row,” said the scoutmaster. 

Wayne’s parents were sitting up for him, 
though midnight was already passed, and had 
something warm on the stove. While he padded 
his stomach with his mother’s good things, he 
briefly recounted some of his most stirring experi- 
ences on the voyage down the river. 

“Well,” said Mr. Scott, “you’ve had some 
strenuous times. And I don’t know but you’ve 
benefited a good deal by them ; you seem to have 
taken on a stronger — a more ready way with you. ’ ’ 
“I’m only thankful,” said his mother, “that 
you ’ve come out of them alive and well. To think 
of that dreadful night ! — and that awful bewilder- 
ing cavern ! ’ ’ 

When Wayne approached Major’s stall on the 
next afternoon, the horse greeted him with a 
whinny and a nodding of the head. 

187 


188 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘Mrs. Maclay tells me/’ said the scoutmaster, 
when all the boys were assembled, “that pretty 
regularly — and it seemed particularly on the Scout 
meeting nights — Major made such a fuss with his 
kicking and all, that she was obliged to come out 
and open his window into the shop, and hang a 
lantern over the table ; when he seemed contented 
to wait, even though we didn ’t come. ’ ’ 

This intelligence brought a fresh caressing to 
that head and neck thrust as of old through the 
window opening. Each Scout in turn must mur- 
mur certain endearments into the attentive, oscil- 
lating ears. 

During this first meeting in the old headquarters 
the Scouts were strongly disposed to reminiscence, 
so that the scoutmaster had some difficulty to sober 
them down to business. It was determined on 
Joe’s suggestion that each should rewrite his log 
of the voyage, and at the end of each day’s entry 
tell all the things he has learned on that day. A 
month should be allowed to complete the journals, 
at the end of which each in turn would read in 
meeting what he had written. Then came consid- 
eration of Wayne’s business. 

“Now, Scouts,” began Mr. Maclay, “you all 
know of the task your patrol leader has set him- 
self. Solving the riddle of a secret writing on 
which some who are said to be experts have failed, 
is pretty certain to be a knotty job. Now it strikes 


THE WIDOW ALBEIGHT 


189 


me that the way we can best help him will be for 
each of us to dig out all the literature we can lay 
our hands on on the subject of cryptography. 
And I hope that in this interesting search you will 
not forget that you will be working to help right a 
wrong. ’ ’ 

Mr. Maclay, recognizing Wayne’s ardor, on the 
next morning hitched Major to the buggy and with 
Wayne and the now recovered George Washington 
Si Boggs, started on up the river road to visit the 
widow Albright. In less than two hours Major 
covered the ten miles ; then a boat was got to take 
them across the river to Port Stevens, where they 
inquired their way to the widow Albright ’s domi- 
cile. 

At the lower edge of town they found the little 
cottage, with its neat flower garden before it and 
some few beds of vegetables at the back. A very 
pleasant-faced, gray-haired woman with mild, 
wondering eyes, met them at the door. 

Admitting her identity, ‘‘Come in, gentlemen,” 
she said. 

“Madam,” began Mr. Maclay, when all were 
seated in the little room, “we — ^Wayne, here, and 
myself — ^have learned something of your story 
from Marvin Blaisdell. ’ ’ 

She nodded approval, listening with an expect- 
ant ear. 

“We met him during a voyage down the river,” 


190 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


continued Mr. Maclay, ‘^when he told us the story 
of your loss from beginning to end. We have 
been a good deal moved. ’ ’ 

The little woman remained expectantly silent. 

‘‘Wayne, here’’ (he directed her attention to- 
ward Wayne), “is particularly touched, and de- 
sires to exercise the best of his capabilities in an 
endeavor to help you. ’ ’ 

“God bless him!” were her first words, with a 
beaming eye on Wayne. “I have always known 
God would send us help in His own good time. ’ ’ 

Then came the story of Boggs’ mission. 

Strange as it seemed, she was not at all troubled 
to learn of the loss in the cave of the paper bear- 
ing the key to the cryptograph. “It is her un- 
stinted faith,” Mr. Maclay explained to himself. 

The widow Albright abruptly excused herself, 
and in a moment Wayne’s ear caught sounds of 
her in the cellar below. “She is after it,” he 
told himself. 

When the sweet little woman returned, she held 
in her hand a small black tin box. Opening it, she 
took out a folded paper, and without preliminary 
put the paper into the hand of Wayne. 

“I know he will find it,” she said. “He has a 
very intelligent face ; and the goodness of God is 
in him ; I know He sent him to me. ’ ’ 

Wayne could not refrain from at once looking 
on that mysterious jumble of letters. For weeks 


THE WIDOW ALBRIGHT 


191 


he had been looking forward to this moment. He 
sought the scoutmaster’s eye, Mr. Maclay got out 
his spectacles, and together they studied the writ- 
ing. And here is what they found : 

IN— IJMOCRZNOXJMIZMKJNOVGWMDBCOCJH 
ZNOZYYIJMOCRZNOAJPMCPIYMZYMJYNNZKP 
GXCMVGBMJPIYHDGDOVMTNOJIZYDMZXOGT 
VRVTAMJHKJGZNOVMADQZCPIYMZYOCDMOT 
MJYNBMVIDOZMJXFBGVNNEVM. 

^^Well, Wayne,” finally came from Mr. Maclay, 
‘ ‘ it looks as if he had shaken the letters in his hat 
and picked them out and arranged them as chance 
thrust them forward.” 

Wayne silently agreed. 

‘ ‘ But we can depend upon it, every letter means 
something. ’ ’ 

‘^And I am sure he will learn to read it,” de- 
clared Mrs. Albright. 

Nothing would do but the three must stay to 
dinner, which was set on the table by Miss Therese 
Albright, ‘‘My daughter,” as the widow Albright 
introduced her ; a dark, sad, but alert-eyed young 
woman, who was intended by nature to be merry. 
There came in, too, a lad of fifteen, James Al- 
bright, who seemed a bit shy. 

When it came time to depart, the daughter fol- 
lowed the guests beyond the gate, and it could be 
seen that she had something to communicate. 
She told Mr. Maclay that she had learned that a 


192 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


representative of the Britton family in England 
had come to the region, to take possession of the 
Albright homestead. ‘ ‘ We have not told mother, ’ ’ 
she said. ‘‘And I understand the Court is to turn 
it over within a week, ’ ^ she added. 

The news was a little depressing to Wayne and 
the scoutmaster, since it limited the time in which 
Wayne must solve his riddle, if it was to be any 
use. 

“Idl go see the trustees this very evening,’’ said 
Mr. Maclay, as Major drew them homeward. 

That evening all the Scouts were over to see the 
cryptograph, and to shower on Wayne the books 
and notes they had culled, on the subject of cryp- 
tology. After a look at the writing Phil voiced 
the sentiments of most, when he said: “I wish 
you joy of your job, Wayne, but it’s not in my 
line. ’ ’ 

Joe made a copy of the writing, and promised 
to work on it. Bay said: “If Wayne doesn’t 
make it out, no use my trying.” So they beat a 
retreat early, leaving Wayne to his task. 

He went over the mass of material the Scouts 
had brought and, except for a few notes he made, 
put aside all but Poe’s “Gold Bug” and Jules 
V erne ’s ‘ ‘ Cryptogram. ’ ’ He read carefully what 
Poe had to say about this kind of solution, and 
began immediately to tabulate the 156 letters of 
the cryptograph, with this result : 


THE WIDOW ALBRIGHT 


193 


Y — 9 times 

M — 20 times 

C — 8 times 

0 — 14 times 

D — 7 times 

J — 13 times 

G — 7 times 

Z — 13 times 

P — 5 times 

N — 12 times 

B — 4 times 

V — 10 times 

T — 4 times 

I — 9 times 

A — 3 times 

Q — 1 time 

H — 3 times 

W— 1 time 

K — 3 times 

1 time 

R — 3 times 

L — 0 time not appearing 

E — 1 time 

S — 0 time not appearing 

F — 1 time 

U — 0 time not appearing 

X — i times 



The m was most numerous, and according to 
Poe’s reasoning, should stand for e, the most fre- 
quently occurring letter in English. Then o 
should be for o, the next frequent, j be for i; and 
the other letters in order. He substituted e for 
m, o retained, i for j, and so on. But it made no 
sort of sense. Poe ’s theory might do for the aver- 
age writing — certainly not here. 

It was near midnight when he felt obliged to 
give up on this system. His head ached and con- 
fusion reigned in his mind. He felt he must get 
somewhere else to work on this enigma. At any 
rate, his mind refused to serve him longer that 
night, and he got into his bed and fought long for 
sleep. Even then he was haunted in dreaming by 
letters tumbling all about one another in most 
dizzy confusion. 


194 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


In the morning he sought the scoutmaster, who 
reported having visited the trustees of Britton’s 
estate, and learned that at six o’clock of the eve- 
ning of August 14th, the Probate Court would duly 
turn over the Albright homestead to the English 
representative of the Britton family. 

‘‘So we have but five days,” said the scoutmas- 
ter. 

Wayne felt that his mind could never stand 
under five days of last night ’s strain. 

“I can do it in less than five days or never,” 
he declared. 

Then he expressed a wish to go up the river to 
the region of the estate involved, where he might 
work without interruption, and near the thing he 
was to seek — say camp on the ground. 

“Very good,” said Mr. Maclay. “I have got 
you the trustees ’ permission to visit the old house 
— the deed may be hidden there. Here is the key 
to a rear door. Better take Boggs along; he’ll 
not be in your way, and can cook for you. ’ ’ 

So immediately after noon the Scouts carried 
Wayne’s camp outfit — including the wireless set — 
to a launch provided by Leslie ’s uncle. 

In an hour and a half they passed Sycamore 
Island (nine miles) and soon glimpsed an old 
cabin amongst the trees on shore, three-quarters 
of a mile short of the Albright homestead. 


THE WIDOW ALBRIGHT 


195 


There Marvin BlaisdelPs old shack — where 
the land was lost,’’ said Wayne. ‘H’ll stop 
there.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE HAUNTED MANSION 

T he launch bearing the Scouts homeward 
quickly got out of earshot. Wayne and 
George W. Si Boggs turned and looked 
about for a suitable camp site. 

Lifting the stained door on its rusted hinges, 
they found that a board partition, thrown up half- 
way across, separated what had been the sleeping 
quarters from the kitchen end, where still stood 
the remains of a stove, with pipe yet piercing the 
shingle roof. 

While Boggs swept out with an improvised 
broom of dried grass, Wayne cut leafy twigs for 
beds. Boggs mended the chimney; Wayne gave 
the table a fourth leg. A half dozen pails of river 
water on the floor and furniture completed repairs. 

The aerial wires were hung from high in a cot- 
tonwood, and connected with the wireless set on 
one corner of the table. This was Ray’s sugges- 
tion. 

Wayne, eager to visit the Albright Homestead, 
set off while Boggs foraged for firewood. It was 
a tramp of three-quarters of a mile along the shore 

196 


THE HAUNTED MANSION 


197 


to the fence, and another quarter to the mouth of 
Sycamore Creek. Wayne found a rustic bridge 
over the small stream opposite the grand old 
house, which stood beyond the woods in a clearing, 
at the foot of the hill; a one-story wing extended 
back on the near side abuttiug on the hill, from 
which one could step onto the roof of the wing. 

Wayne stepped forward on the path, but was 
halted by a voice in the brush behind him. He 
turned to see a boy of nine or ten, coming toward 
him. 

‘ ‘ Say, ’ ’ said the boy, ^ ‘ I wouldn T go up there ; 
that house is haunted.’^ 

‘^DonT believe in that kind of rot,’^ said Wayne, 
as the boy approached. 

“Well,” said the boy, “me^n Clif — Clif Hooker, 
he lives next to me — ^we camped on the creek last 
night, and we seen lights in the house; and they 
was movin ^ We didn T sleep much after that, and 
went home soon as day. I forgot my knife — stuck 
in a tree — and come after it.” 

“I guess there was some one in the house,” 
ventured Wayne. 

“No,” was the boy’s uncompromising reply, 
“there don’t ever any one go in that house; every 
one knows it’s haunted.” 

“Who haunts it?” queried Wayne. 

“Why, the man that owned it,” came the an- 
swer. ‘ ^ He died out west. ’ ’ 


198 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


‘‘Why does he haunt persisted Wayne. 

“Well/’ ventured the boy, “he don’t rest easy 
in his grave. Folks say he got it in a bad way. ’ ’ 

When the boy had gone his way, Wayne again 
approached the haunted house. The garden nur- 
tured little but weeds. The broad and imposing 
stone steps showed long want of the broom; but 
aside from the shabbily neglected frames to the 
portals, the house itself showed nothing of decay. 
Here and there, blinds stood open. 

The abutting hill in the way, Wayne must go 
around the structure to reach the back. His hand 
trembled a little as he inserted the key. It was a 
back ante-room he stepped into, between kitchen 
and store-room. He entered the dining-room; 
from there to the living-room; thence across the 
front entry hall to the library. In all dust-cov- 
ered furniture stood. 

In the library, some books lay on the floor, with 
signs of recent handling showing in the dust. 
Back of the library a den ; couch, table, and an old- 
fashioned secretary — tall, with shelves above — 
standing against the back wall. The walls were 
all of paneled wood. Here again Wayne saw 
where the dust had been recently hand-rubbed. 
Opening the secretary, he noted dust-smeared 
papers. He looked them over ; there was nothing 
of interest. 

The dust on the floor showed signs of the secre- 


THE HAUNTED MANSION 


199 


tary^s having been lately moved from the wall and 
pushed back again. Wayne tried to move it, but 
found it too heavy. 

Only one article he found awakened his inter- 
est — a photograph, likeness of a man : a large hat 
with flowing brim, frock coat buttoned low ; broad 
soft bow tie; ramshorn cane, with a metal joint 
like a sword-cane; long twisted mustaches above 
an imperial, — all gave him a cavalier appearance. 
Wayne was certain it must be Thomas Britton. 
The photo accorded well with Marvin BlaisdelPs 
account of the man. It was such a man as would 
be capable of such odd humors as the cryptograph. 

Voices without came to Wayne’s ears. He put 
back the photograph and hurried around to the 
door by which he had entered. When he emerged 
he saw a pair of farmers in the yard. 

‘‘How d’ye do,” said the elder. 

“Good morning,” returned Wayne. 

“I reckon you’re the one the trustees give the 
key to, seein’ you’ve got it,” said the man. “I’m 
hired by them to keep an eye on the place. We 
see some one in the yard and come to investigate.” 

“Yes,” corroborated Wayne, “they said I 
might go into the house. Has any one else been 
in here lately?” he questioned. 

“There ain’t been no one in there for more’n a 
year,” said the farmer, — “exceptin’ spirits.” 

When Wayne finally made his way back to the 


200 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Blaisdell cabin, he ruminated over those signs of 
recent intrusion. He was easily convinced, by the 
boy^s report of having seen lights, and the fresh 
marks in the dust, that some one had been there 
on the night before. Who could it be? Tramps 
had evidently steered clear of the house. That it 
was some one directing his interest chiefly to Brit- 
ton’s books and secretary was quite plain. Who 
more probable than this recently arrived repre- 
sentative of the Britton family, perhaps searching 
for a will — or more likely, the deed to which the 
cryptograph pointed the way? 

‘‘That’s it,” said Wayne to himself, “he’s 
afraid of that deed. Maybe he’s found it!” 
Wayne ’s heart stopped for a moment. ‘ ‘ He might 
destroy it,” he continued to himself. “But if he 
hasn’t found it he’ll come again to-night. I’m go- 
ing to see. If only it wasn’t too late to see why 
he moved that desk 1 ’ ’ 

The sun had melted into the horizon when 
Wayne reached the shack. Boggs had potatoes 
boiled, and ham and eggs were ready to put on 
the crackling fire. 

Eager as was Wayne to tackle the cryptograph 
at once, he felt powerfully persuaded to watch the 
deserted house. So, before the darkness of night 
had made eerie all the corners of the woods, he and 
Boggs had found a place for their blankets amid 
the brush under the trees, near the edge of the 


THE HAUNTED MANSION 201 

clearing. There was no moon, though the stars 
shone. 

Boggs's was to be the first watch, eight to 
twelve. Wayne was not conscious of having had 
his eyes closed over a minute, till he felt himself 
shaken by Boggs. 

‘‘Look thar," urged Boggs. 

Wayne looked, and saw a glimmering of light, 
showing in a dormer window in the roof of the 
old mansion. For a little the two watched, si- 
lently. Then the light disappeared, only to show 
again in a lower story. 

“Come," spoke Wayne. 

The two started toward the mansion. As they 
went the light disappeared again, and showed once 
more, this time on the ground floor, shining 
through the blinds of the library window. 

Wayne crept tremblingly forward, Boggs imme- 
diately behind. They got to the wall. 

“Boost me," whispered Wayne. 

In a moment he stood on Boggs's horizontal 
back, his eye to a chink. And here is what he saw : 
The door between the library and the den behind 
stood open. On the table in that back room rested 
a flickering candle. A man — perhaps forty, 
smooth chin, but tufts of whiskers on the cheeks — 
was in the act of lifting and pushing the end of 
the tall secretary away from the back wall. When 
he got it standing at an angle, he took up the can- 


202 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


die and some tools from the table, disappearing 
behind the secretary. Then Wayne ^s ear canght 
the sound of pounding, as of a steel instrument on 
rock. He saw nothing but the dim flow of light on 
the wall about the secretary. 

But soon the sound of pounding ceased, and he 
saw the side-whiskered man come out and put the 
candle and tools back on the table. Wayne no- 
ticed with some satisfaction the expression of dis- 
appointment in the man^s face. ‘‘He hasn’t 
found it,” was Wayne’s self-assuring thought. 

The man stood irresolute for a minute, then he 
proceeded to return the secretary to its place ; he 
took up the candle and tools, came into the library 
and made for the hall. 

Wayne got down and pulled Boggs over amongst 
the weeds of the garden. Soon a light showed for 
a moment in a cellar window. Then all was dark 
and still. 

After a time it became evident the man had 
gone away. So Wayne and Boggs got back to 
their blankets. But it was but fitful sleep the boy 
got till morning. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE CEYPTOGRAPH 

W AYNE could hardly wait for daylight to 
get over to the house once more. He 
found where the man had forced a cel- 
lar window, on the farther side. 

In the den, the two soon had the secretary away 
from the wall. Markings about a little knob of 
wood in a panel of the wall caught Wayne’s eye. 
With his knife he got it out. In the wee hole was 
a loop of cord. He pulled. The adjoining panel 
fell slightly ajar — on hinges — and Wayne looked 
into a recess, over a foot square, and extending 
into the rock of the hill at the back of the house, 
perhaps two feet. 

There were marks of the man ’s tools all around 
within. Doubtless he expected to find a recess 
behind a recess and had been disappointed. 

Wayne picked up a pad of blank paper from the 
floor of the space ; everything else that this secret 
chamber may have contained must have been re- 
moved. 

Everything set back in place, the two climbed 
the stairs. Garret and all were visited, but of- 

203 


204 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


f ered nothing of present interest, except the signs 
of search of the nocturnal visitor. It was rea- 
soned by Wayne that the trustees had refused the 
man admission to the house, since he made his 
visit thus clandestinely. 

While the two were making their way through 
the woods, campward, Wayne discovered that he 
still retained the pad of paper. He had inadver- 
tently carried it off. It seemed to him almost as 
if fate had fastened it on him. He ran through 
the leaves, half hoping that he should find some- 
thing to help ; but they were all blank. 

Arrived at the cabin, breakfast was hurried 
through. Then, as Boggs set things in order, 
Wayne sat himself down to the table and tackled 
the cryptograph again. He looked long on that 
crazy-quilt of letters. Whether it was that he was 
worn with lack of sleep, or he had been disturbed, 
his mind upset, by the experience up at the de- 
serted mansion, or both, his mind refused to con- 
centrate. The more he looked on that jumble the 
more the letters would riot. 

Long before noon he gave it up, threw off his 
clothes and dashed into the river for a swim. At 
once the cool water gave relief, and he determined 
that the afternoon should see progress. 

But dinner over, the same symptoms of confu- 
sion and rambling of the mind returned. He 
roamed the forest, and in various ways sought to 


THE CKYPTOGRAPH 


205 


forget the cryptograph. Supper came and went. 
He tackled the thing once more. 

Wayne’s mind refused the job. He began to 
fear he was doomed to failure. Then all at once 
he heard tones from an instrument — at first it 
seemed some kind of bird — some distance away. 
It was a plaintive melody some one was playing. 
Wayne felt his flesh creep with the beauty of it. 
He forgot the cryptograph — everything, as he sat, 
entranced. 

Boggs was gone from the kitchen. Wayne 
stepped out toward the source of the music, and 
presently saw Boggs seated on the river bank, his 
shoulder against a tree-trunk ; in his hands — at his 
mouth — he held an ocarina, and wonderful was 
the taste of paradise he sent forth from it. 

Finally as the musician ceased for a breathing 
spell, recollections of his task came to Wayne and 
he wandered back to his table. And he worked, 
the seldom ceasing music continuing to charm his 
ears. His mind was now tranquil — confusion all 
gone. A sense of ultimate victory was in his 
being. 

Very quickly certain repeated combinations of 
letters in the cryptograph became apparent to him. 
Following ‘‘In-” the nine letters “ijmocrzno” ap- 
peared again, together, farther along in the same 
line. At the end of the line — “mjyn,” which was 
repeated in the last line. Again in the first line. 


206 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


just before ‘‘mjyn/’ was ‘‘cpiymzy/’ repeated at 
the end of the second line. Doubtless these com- 
binations of letters represented words, each twice 
appearing in the secret writing. Wayne set them 
down thus : 


2 times : In — ijmocrzno. 

2 times: cpiymzy. 

2 times : m j y n. 

‘^WhaUs likely to be the first word in such a 
writing?’’ Wayne asked himself. ‘^A direction, 
or measure of distance. Let ’s try a direction, say 
southeast.** He set the word below the crypto- 
graphic letters, thus : 

ijmocrzno 

southeast 

Wayne then applied the letters, so apparently 
discovered, to the two other words, thus : 


In — ijmocrzno 
N s — northeast 
cpiymzy 
h n r a 
m j y n 
r o s 

^ ^ ro s ’ ’ — That must be rods, a measure of distance. 
So he had discovered another letter — d — for the 
“y” of the cryptograph. Applied to the second 
word above, he got : 


THE CEYPTOGEAPH 


207 


cpiymzy 
h ndrad 

Ah ! That must be hundred. And so he had an- 
other letter — u — for p. And z must stand for e — 
not a. So, he reasoned, the first word must be 
changed to northwest (r standing for w). 

Now then, Wayne set down what he had discov- 
ered, thus : 


In — ijmocrznoxjmizmk 
Ns — northwest orner 
e p 

jnovgwmdbco 
ost r ht 
i 

cjhznozvyijmocrznoajpm 
ho este dnorthwest our 

f 

cpiymzymjyn 
hundredr ods 

nzkpgxcmvgbmjpiyhdgd 
se u hr round 

pc i i 

ovmtnojiz 
t r stone 

y 

ydmzxogtvrvtamjhkjgz 
dret w ro oe 
i c y yf p 

novmadqz 
s t r e 
f i 

cpiymzyoedmotmjynbmv 
hundredth rt rods r 


208 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


idozmjxfbgvnnevm. 
ntero ss r. 

i c 

By continuing his reasoning he found c p f i y. 
And so words began to build. 

But the Ns- seemed to have no meaning. Ah ! 
Doubtless the “I n^’ at the beginning must be the 
key to the relative arrangement of the two alpha- 
bets, the cryptographic and the natural. Let us 
try. 

I — j klmnopqrstuvw 
n — 0 pqrstuvwxyzab 
xyzabcdefgh 
cdefghijklm 

Applied to the letters discovered, it proved cor- 
rect — j means o, o means t. Hurrah ! 

From time to time, Wayne’s glance had gone to 
the blank pad, got from the secret recess in the 
old house, and now something there struck him as 
a bit peculiar. There were pin holes in a circle ; 
and from each showed a line impression running 
to the center, or hub, of the circle, like the spokes 
of a wheel. He saw at once that some one had 
made such a drawing on a superimposed sheet of 
the pad, and what he now looked on was the im- 
pression made by the pencil. 

Wayne reproduced the drawing with the pencil. 
He counted the sectors. Just twenty-six — the 
number of letters in the alphabet ! He filled them 


THE CRYPTOGEAPH 


209 


in — two alphabets in regular order, but so that the 
n of one came within the same sector as the i of 
the other. This is what he got. 



Thrilling with victory, Wayne, with this guide, 
filled in his letters : 


In — ij mocrznoxjmizm 
northwestcorner 
kjnovgwmdbco 
postalbright 
cjhznozvyijmocrznoajpm 
homesteadnorthwestfour 
epiymzymjyn 
hundredr ods 
nzkpgxcmvgbmjpiy 
sepul chr al ground 
hdgdovmtnojiz 
mill ta rystone 
ydmzxogtvrvtamjb 
di r ec t 1 yawayfrom 


210 


^ BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


kjgznovmadqz 
polestarfiye 
cpiymzyocdmotmjyn 
hundredth! rty rods 
bmvidozmjxf 
g rani terock 
bgTnneym. 
gl assjar. 

Then, trembling with excitement, he copied and 
set down the translation, punctuated, thus : 

Northwest comer post Albright Homestead. 
Northwest four hundred rods. Sepulchral 
ground. Military stone. Directly away from 
the pole-star five hundred thirty rods. Granite 
rock. Glass jar. 

<<IVe got it!’’ shouted Wayne. must tell 
Ray.” And he began to adjust the wireless, 
reckon he’s gone to bed,” said Boggs. 


CHAPTEE XXI 


A DISAPPOINTMENT 


FTEE breakfast Wayne quickly attacked 



the wireless, and finally came Eay^s WS, 


^ WS, WS, EE.’^ Followed by: ‘‘What^s 
doing? 

^‘Well, I got it,’^ sent Wayne. 

‘^Got what — the mumps again?” 

‘^No, the solution — cryptog.” 

‘ ‘ Hurrah ! Shall we come ? ’ ’ ticked Eay. 

^‘Better wait till I^m sure there’s no hitch,” 
answered Wayne. ‘^Stay around about noon.” 

Eemoving the receiver, Wayne turned to Boggs. 

^‘Well, weVe got to get ready,” he said. 
‘‘Looks like we won’t need that paper, lost in the 
cave. ’ ’ 

“I kind o’ knowed you’d git it,” grinned Boggs. 

“We’ve got to have some poles,” said Wayne, 
“and something to measure with.” 

Three slender willows were easily got; and 
Boggs vanished up the shore, soon to return with 
two small rolls of galvanized wire. The two 
lengths Wayne linked together and cut to measure 
thirty-three feet, or two rods. 


211 


212 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


They set off through the woods, and in a short 
time were at the northwest corner of the 200-acre 
estate. 

Wayne got out the writing, ‘‘Northwest corner 
post Albright Homestead. Northwest four hun- 



dred rods. Sepulchral ground. Military stone, ’ ’ 
it read. 

Wayne tied a thread around his compass, so that 
it ran over the points NW and SW, Then he set 
it on the corner fence post, and sent Boggs far out 
with the poles, and, sighting by the compass, he 
soon had the poles set in line, directly northwest. 
Then came a measuring with the two-rod wire 
chain. 

For 200 rods the course largely paralleled the 



A DISAPPOINTMENT 


213 


creek. Then a climb to the top of the hills, and 
finally they came to the fence of a cemetery; the 
last stake was set beside a grave, a little way 
within the boundary fence. 

So this was the “sepulchral ground. But 
where the “military stone”? 

Wayne presently discovered a tall shaft, erected 
to the memory of soldiers who fell in the War of 
the Eehellion. “That’s it,” said he. “That’s 
the ‘military stone.’ ” Again he consulted the 
paper, and read, “Directly away from pole-star 
five hundred thirty rods.” Why “pole-star”? It 
must be that the north of the pole-star did not 
agree with that of the compass. 

He turned to Boggs. “We’ve got to come here 
at night, when the stars are shining,” he said. 

They concealed the willow poles in some brush 
by the cemetery fence, and started for camp. 

After supper a brief but heavy rain storm had 
ceased. The watch showed past seven. Recol- 
lecting his promise to call Ray, Wayne got to the 
wireless. 

“If it clears off by daylight you better come. 
When you come, whistle. I won’t be more than 
two miles north by west of cabin.” 

“We’ll come,” came Ray’s determined clicks. 

Dusk was on when Wayne and Boggs slung on 
forester tent, ax, canteen, and stuffed knapsack, 
and emerged from the cabin. As they passed the 


214 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


corner of the cabin, Wayne’s ear caught the sound 
of some object making otf through the brush; he 
saw the bushes fly back. 

He turned to Boggs. ‘‘Did you hear some- 
thing!” he said. 

“I heered it,” said Boggs. “It’s shore some 
hant.” 

The trees were dripping, the grass a sea ; when 
they reached the burying-ground they were soaked 
to the knees, and carried ample moisture above. 
They got one of the poles out of the brush and set 
up the tent near the fence ; and soon a somewhat 
cheering blaze licked the moist air in front. 

In an hour they were dry. But it began to driz- 
zle again. They took turns about chunking the 
fire, whose light Wayne could see dancing on unap- 
preciative tomb-stones. Time and again he looked 
for some sign of a break in the clouds ; but in vain. 
“It might keep on three days,” he wailed within; 
‘ ‘ and then it will be too late. ’ ’ 

It was past two; Wayne was taking his turn on 
watch ; it had ceased to rain some time. He looked 
up in the murk; a star glittered forth for a mo- 
ment ; then another. In a minute the break in the 
clouds became plain. He roused Boggs, and the 
two were soon over the cemetery fence and beside 
the soldiers’ monument, two poles ready. Two or 
three stars showed in the northern sky. 


A DISAPPOINTMENT 215 

‘‘One of themes the pole-star, I think,’’ said 
Wayne. ‘ ‘ I wish I knew which. ’ ’ 

The great dipper was still obscured. The vigil 
continued — necks aching with the craning — tiU 
finally the stars composing the bowl of the dipper 
were freed from the clouds. 

“Now, Boggs, quick!” said Wayne. 

He hastily identified the pole-star, and brought 
his eye in line with it and the tip of the soldiers’ 
monument, directing Boggs, with the pole, till it, 
too, was set in line. ‘ ‘ To the right ! — ^to the left ! — 
a little to the right! — There!” A cloud obscured 
most of the stars again. But when the pole-star 
showed once more, Wayne had Boggs set the sec- 
ond willow pole in line. Then he hurriedly took 
one last sight along the two poles, the monument, 
the star, and breathed relief. 

Then back to the tent, a bite of lunch, and two 
hours ’ wait for day. 

A half hour had passed when Wayne arose to 
mend the fire. Instinctively his eyes turned to- 
ward the graveyard, whose stones stood ghost- 
like in the faint shimmer of a few stars. 

Suddenly with an exclamation he assumed the 
erect rigidity of the tomb-stones he looked toward, 
and his flesh crept under his clothes. There, near 
the soldiers’ monument, and by the poles he had 
set up, he saw a dark figure. It swayed uncer- 


216 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


tainly a moment, and then glided away amongst 
the tombs and trees. 

Wayne called Boggs and tremblingly led the 
way over the fence to the first willow pole. He 
passed on to the second, and at another step his 
foot struck an object on the ground. He took it 
up — a walking-stick, with curved handle. 

‘^A hant,’’ was Boggs’s half -whispered offer- 
ing. 

don’t believe in them,” said Wayne. “Be- 
sides, they wouldn ’t carry a cane. ’ ’ 

A short search produced no further signs of the 
ghostlike lurker. 

Going back to the tent, the cane in his hand, 
Wayne’s mind reverted to the sounds he’d heard 
in the brush near the shack, and to that man in 
the big house ; a connection seemed reasonable. 

Before the sun’s rays were on the trees the two 
were abroad. Boggs stepped to the south, and 
was soon setting the pole, directed by Wayne, who 
stood by the monument, sighting by the poles that 
had been placed in the night. Wayne exercised 
great care as they moved forward on the line 
established. According to the solved writing, 
they must measure 530 rods — above a mile and a 
half. Wayne realized that a slight deviation at 
the beginning would set them far off at the end. 
So progress was slow, and they were but to the 
brow of the hill — two-thirds of a mile northwest 


217 


A DISAPPOINTMENT 

of the cabin — when their ears were set to attention 
by the sound of a Scout whistle. Wayne an- 
swered, and within ten minutes there appeared 
Pay, Leslie, Charles, Phil, Bert, Joe and Slicky. 

^‘Relieve us!” begged Ray in a call. “What’s 
it all about ? ’ ’ 

And then, upon being shown the writing, he 
added: “Pole-star — ^Aw, that’s what the ‘clear 
night’ was for.” 

With all helping, the wire moved forward, down 
the hill, through the woods, and the 530-rod stake 
was set in the ground some 600 feet short of the 
river bank. 

No “granite rock” showed anywhere. 

Keeping what he judged the proper distance 
from the monument, Wayne moved on the arc to 
the right. Presently his steps brought him to a 
bent tree, supporting a mass of wild grape-vines. 
There, within the screen of vines, lurked a round- 
topped granite rock, five feet in height. 

Wayne whistled the call of the whippoorwill. 
The Scouts came in on the jump. 

“Hooray!” shouted Phil, noting the mass of 
granite. 

The brush and vines were soon cleared from 
about the rock, and the digging began — a trench 
going round the stone. Anxious eyes and throb- 
bing hearts hovered about the place. Dirt, sand 
and gravel accumulated in a section of circle. 


218 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


The spade was in Boggs’s hands, delving under 
the north edge of the rock of granite, when it 
struck tin — three feet down. In a minute Wayne 
had pulled out a rust-eaten coffee canister. Torn 
open, it revealed a glass fruit- jar — a paper within. 

Phil could not contain himself, but let out an- 
other whoop. 

Wayne knocked away some sealing-wax and got 
off the screw top. His eager fingers reached in 
and pulled forth the paper. Perfect silence 
reigned as he spread it out. Many eager eyes 
watched. 

^‘That doesn’t look like a deed,” spoke Bay. 

“It’s another cryptograph!” said Joe. 

Here is what they looked on : 


RCc-u J“l 

□ t\LlZAL33<jnn/a/ 

L^C4:nLsrf)UCJ^ni:2 
pniaLjvL3-t 

UJ c . 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE STRUGGLE RENEWED 


T ie Scouts’ eager faces clouded with disap- 
pointment. As for Wayne — after all that 
agony to solve the cryptograph and to find 
what he sought, only to discover another crypto- 
graph, and that evidently more difficult than the 
first — he spoke not a word, and the Scouts re- 
spected his silence, and followed him silently, as 
he moved up the shore. 

‘‘It’s tough, Wayne,” sympathized Ray, “but I 
know you can work this one out, too. ’ ’ 

“Only two days left,” said Wayne. 

“You can do it,” declared Ray. “First, take a 
good rest — we ’ll keep out of your way. ’ ’ 

Boggs was already at preparation for dinner, 
and the Scouts brought in food supplies from the 
launch. 

For an hour, Ray and Phil rivaled one another 
in efforts to make it a jolly party, and to keep 
Wayne’s mind off his cryptographic troubles. 
Then they left in the launch to seek a camp site on 
Sycamore Creek. 

Wayne’s impatience would not let him rest, he 


220 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


tackled his job at once. The E at the beginning 
suggested a circular arrangement. So Wayne 
proceeded to make his circles again, and fill in the 
letters as suggested. (See diagram No. 1.) 



The position of the new character C with ref- 
erence to E and c was thus determined, and he 
had letters for all but the new characters, so he 
filled them in as you see in diagram No. 2. G 
stood for r repeatedly, and t for e. 

RCc -aJT g b O aton dlHl 
f r m 1 e o w 

3xnt gC t ttC r CJ 3 c C3 n B 
lerafe n 1 

CjhC t 3 L» 9 r p UCJ gC3 t 3l 

8 0 da re 

d ^ O vr D rCSpC^TaLivCJl 
o» hca Igt 

LJU h C , 

a 

Diageam No. 2 

If he might only discover the consecutive order 
in which these new characters should be placed in 
the circle with the known letters, he might have his 
solution. 

And this is where poor Wayne stuck. 


THE STRUGGLE RENEWED 221 


Finally, after hours, he abandoned the thing, 
and strode off into the dark woods seeking physi- 
cal fatigue, that he might sleep. It lacked but 
two hours of daylight when he sought his bed, and 
was long after that his eyes closed; but his mind 
still fought with those fiendish characters. When 
he awoke things were no better. 

After breakfast Boggs intervened. ‘‘Ye’re 
all tuckered out. Jest you let me boss this here a 
leetle. We’re a-guine now to cut some cord- 
wood.” 

He led Wayne into the woods, handed him the 
ax and gave him a lesson — how to make clean 
chips — ^talking all the while. 

They didn ’t quit till that log was all in sections, 
and split, and Wayne all flushed and muscle-ex- 
hausted. Then Boggs brought Wayne’s blanket, 
and made him stretch out on the sand shore, at 
the edge of the woods. Out came the ocarina. In 
ten minutes Wayne was breathing deeply in sound 
sleep. 

The sun was low when he opened his eyes. He 
felt fit as a fiddle. 

After a hearty supper Wayne was again seated 
at the table, gazing defiantly on those strange 
characters, which seemed to shrink under his 
threatening look. 

He labored for hours. He tried a hundred ar- 
rangements. 


222 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Finally lie set down some of the characters in 
the manner of diagram No. 3. 




Diagrams Nos. 3 and 4 


There was something familiar in the look of the 
thing. Then — ‘‘Ah! IVe got it!’^ he said. 
“lUs the ‘ tit-tat-toe. ^ ’’ And he made one (see 
diagram No. 4). 

Then he constructed the scheme shown by dia- 
gram No. 5, confident that the little hooks — and 
dots — were but to modify the simpler factors. 


J JJ 

uuu 

L 

LL 

ABC 

D E F 

G 

HI 

vDDD 

□ DO 

C 

CD 

JKL 

MNO 

P 

QR 

nm 

nnn 

r 

rr 

STU 

V wx 

Y 

Z 


Diagram No. 6 


But Wayne saw that Britton had not been con- 
tent to let these characters represent the letters 
thus placed below them. While apparently he had 
preserved this consecutive order, he had placed 


THE STEUGGLE EENEWED 


223 


them in the ‘ ^ clock-diaP ’ in another relation to the 
letters they should represent. The key to this 
relation was doubtless the E C c 

After C with E above and c below it — should 
come C with S above and d below. 

With eager fingers he filled in the characters, 
and applied the letters to the cryptograph. What 
he got was as meaningless a jumble as the crypto- 
graph itself. 

He concluded he had erred somehow in the ‘ ‘ tit- 
tat-toe ^ ’ scheme ; but that he would not abandon it. 

Finally, he tried diagram No. 6. 



uuu 

L L U 

A JS 

B KT 

C L 0 

JOO 

□□Q 

ccc 

DM V 


F 0>c 

nm 

nnn 

rrr 

Gpy 


TR 


Diagram No. 6 


This gave him a new consecutive order for plac- 
ing the characters. He erased the old in the cir- 
cle, and filled in the new, and got diagram No. 7. 

Then with more intense excitement he applied 
the letters showing below the characters to the 


224 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 



Diagram No. 7 


cryptograph (diagram No. 8). The words thus 
formed he set down in a punctuated paragraph. 

Four miles down river ^ left channel. Isle. 
Midway corner of shack and light post. 

‘ ‘ Got it ! ’ ^ he cried. 

rc o-uj*! g btj a ton d in 

fourallasdown 

3xn t gC t uc rcjc)cn? 

rlvojplet t channel) 

Lhc X nv .r pucJgnt3, 

1 8 leal deay c oraep; 

dPPwnrQpnnaUvUl' 
ofshaokand light 

U J h C . 

P o » t • 

Diagram No. 8 

Boggs bobbed up from his pallet, rubbing his 
eyes. know ye would, he said. 

Wayne looked at his watch — already past one. 
Should he call the Scouts ? 


THE STRUGGLE RENEWED 225 


^ ‘ No, I ’ll let them sleep, ’ ’ he concluded. ‘ ^ Can ’t 
do anything till daylight anyway. ’ ’ 

He failed to perceive Boggs slipping off in the 
dark, amongst the trees. 


CHAPTER XXni 


THE CACHE ON THE ISLAND 

B y 8 :30 next morning the Scouts were 
aboard the launch, whose bow pointed 
down the Mississippi. 

“Well, now, Wayne, where is it!’’ demanded 
Ray. 

“The tow-head, near Uncle John’s island,” said 
Wayne. 

“There’s no shack there,” said Ray. 

“No,” agreed Wayne, “but there’s a light-post. 
I’m going to ask Uncle John.” 

The end of half an hour saw the launch to shore 
on Uncle John’s island. 

“Yes,” said Uncle John in reply to Wayne’s 
question about the shack. “A fisherman, name of 
Johnson, lived there long before you were bom. 
It was empty many years, and the boards were 
gradually burned up; there’s nothing but a hole 
now. ’ ’ 

While Wayne explained matters he kept his eye 
on the opposite shore, and after a time saw a 
buggy come to a stop on the river road. 

226 


THE CACHE ON THE ISLAND 227 


‘‘There’s the scoutmaster now,” he said. 

He hurried down to the boat-landing, and soon 
was propelling a boat swiftly across. 

Wayne returned to the launch, with Uncle John 
and the scoutmaster. 

Then came the landing on the isle, which lay a 
quarter of a mile off the big island, and close upon 
the left rim of the steamboat channel. Rank for- 
est growth covered it, except for a grassy open 
space of about a quarter acre in its upper half, 
where stood the white light-post. 

Uncle John led the way up the bank, and pointed 
out a hole, sides tumbled in, and grass-grown. 

“That’s where the old shack was,” he said. 

Digging brought to view a rotted post that had 
supported a corner of the shack. 

Wayne got out his deciphered cryptograph. 
“Midway corner of shack and light post,” he read. 

Then came measuring the eighty-four feet from 
the shack to the light-post, marking the middle and 
digging. 

Meanwhile Uncle John and the scoutmaster con- 
versed apart, and smiled. 

Soon the Scouts struck solid rock. 

Wayne’s face paled. He put his hand to his 
head, musing a moment. Then he strode over and 
examined the light-post. 

“This is a new light-post,” he declared. 
“There must have been an older one.” 


228 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


He surveyed the ground critically, and finally 
began to dig. 

Some moments, then — ‘‘Here’s where the old 
one was broken off,” he said. 

Uncle John laughed aloud. “We were just 
wondering if you would find that out,” he said. 
“You’ll do, Wayne.” 

The new location — that of the old light-post — 
was seventy-one feet from the comer of the shack. 
Wayne stretched a line from shack to light-post, 
and measured thirty-five and one-half feet — to the 
middle. On this spot grew a tangle of brush, 
which the Scouts grubbed out with some expendi- 
ture of sweat. Turn about, they dug into the soil. 
When the hole was four feet deep, Ray pushed the 
spade into Wayne’s hands. 

“Here, this is your picnic,” he said. “I don’t 
want some spook or other to jump out on me.” 

Wayne directly struck rock. There could be 
heard many sighs of disappointment. But Wayne 
seemed not a bit daunted. Stooping, he got his 
fingers under the edge of the rock and lifted it out 
of its bed. Bmshing aside the sandy loam, he ex- 
posed a tobacco-box, fairly well preserved. A 
minute’s tugging, and he passed it up to Uncle 
John. 

Phil spoke up : “ Hope it isn ’t another cryp — ’ ’ 

Ray silenced him with a punch. 

With an ax, Uncle John pried the box open. 


THE CACHE ON THE ISLAND 229 


Many heads hovered above as Wayne lifted out a 
black tin box — the regulation cash-box. The lid 
came up easily, exposing to view a long manila 
envelope, and five paper-covered packages. 

Wayne handed the envelope to Mr. Maclay, who 
unsealed it and drew out its contents. 

‘Ht’s a deed,” he said. ‘‘ ‘Thomas Britton to 
Mrs. A n n Albright, ’ and here ’s a communication. ’ ’ 

He proceeded to read the document, as follows : 

“By the laws of hazard, I came many years ago, 
into possession of the certain property which I 
hold in legal right. Yet in my maturer years, I 
have come to a realization that immutable moral 
obligations exist, as between man and man. 

“It was an evil day that one John Albright and 
myself agreed that the lands in question — in which 
his wife and offspring should have an equal share 
— should be put in jeopardy, and staked in a game 
of chance. This John Albright is now deceased. 
It is with the purpose to right this wrong as to 
whom he has left behind, that I have duly executed 
the accompanying deed of transfer. 

‘ ‘ Certain profits in moneys have accrued, out of 
which I have taken what I conceive to be my due, 
in consideration. The residue — herewith, in bills 
of the U. S. — is for the widow, Ann Albright. 

“My excuse for delay in the delivery and final 
fulfillment of my purpose, lies in the interest which 


230 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


my sister, Elizabeth, has, in various ways, acquired 
in the property. I now await a time favorable of 
circumstances when I shall put my friend, Marvin 
Blaisdell, in the way of consummating this resti- 
tution. 

‘‘Thomas Beitton.’’ 

“It does me good,’’ said the scoutmaster, fold- 
ing the paper and returning it to the envelope. 
“It does me good. And now for the packages.” 

Wayne removed the cord binding the first, and 
handed the bundle over to Mr. Maclay. The 
wrapping otf, green (mostly yellow-backed) bills 
showed to the Scouts’ marveling eyes, ranging 
from five to fifty dollar denominations. The 
scoutmaster counted. 

Each of the five packets held $1,000. 

“Five thousand dollars. This is even better 
than we have dreamed,” said Mr. Maclay, rewrap- 
ping the paper. 

“Hurrah for Wayne!” yelled Phil. 

The little isle sent up the shrill call of the whip- 
poorwill. The Scouts’ tongues were now loosed, 
and nearly all talked at once. 

“Well, now. Scouts,” finally came from Mr. 
Maclay, ‘ ‘ suppose we get things out of the launch 
and have a bite before we call on the widow 
Albright.” 


THE CACHE ON THE ISLAND 231 


A real Scout fire was soon blazing, and bacon 
and eggs sputtered in two pans. Eay vigorously 
stirred batter for some flap- jacks, and the rest 
gave him much to do to satisfy so many appetites. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


SCOUTS IN COUET 

T he launch set Uncle John and the scout- 
master on the big island and turned its 
bow up the river again. 

Arrived at Port Stevens, Wayne hastened to the 
widow Albright, and he gave her very little time 
to primp for a visit to the city. 

The little woman got the story as the launch 
leaped, wave to wave, on the old Mississippi. Her 
bright eyes danced as she listened, and, knew 
it — I knew it, ’ ’ she would say. 

The city clocks were striking four while the pro- 
cession moved up the street. 

At the bank they found the scoutmaster wait- 
ing, and Wayne was introduced — with some cere- 
mony — to the two trustees of the Britton estate. 

When the deed, the letter, and the money had 
been turned over and duly examined, the proces- 
sion, augmented, was taken up again to the rooms 
of the probate judge, where the proprietorship of 
the Albright Homestead was on the docket to be 
finally decided at six o’clock. 

Our party had not been long there when there 

232 


SCOUTS IN COURT 


233 


entered a man whose form and face, with its side 
whiskers, were familiar to Wayne. His entrance 
set np in Wayne a creepy sensation, though the 
man had anything but an ill appearance. 

The scoutmaster watched the door as the hour 
drew near and finally escorted into the room the 
Scouts’ old acquaintance, Marvin Blaisdell, the 
pearl fisher. The surprised boys surrounded him. 

Presently the judge appeared from an inner 
room. The clerk handed him a paper, which he 
studied a moment. 

‘^Ahem,” he cleared his throat. ‘‘This, it 
seems, is the Britton Estate matter, involving the 
Albright Homestead.” 

He looked over his glasses, questioningly, to- 
ward Mr. Gorman, one of the trustees. 

“Yes, your honor, ’ ’ said Mr. Gorman. “We are 
to determine, finally, the proprietorship of the 
property in question. The widow of John Al- 
bright is here, and a representative of the Britton 
heirs.” 

At this the man with the side whiskers stepped 
forward, duly introducing himself, Mr. Edmund 
Carringford Britton, son of an own cousin to 
Thomas Britton; and bearing credentials author- 
izing him to take possession of the American es- 
tate of Thomas Britton, deceased, in the event 
there should be discovered no other prior claim. 

Wayne was puzzled. This Englishman showed 


234 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


nothing of the zeal for possession that he had been 
led to expect. 

The judge, looking over the papers, proceeded : 

‘‘There has been presented some evidence, as 
shown in certain correspondence of the deceased 
Thomas Britton, that he made a certain deed of 
transfer of the lands in question, known as the 
Albright Homestead, and it has pleased the court 
to defer for some considerable time the final dis- 
position of the property, in order that ample op- 
portunity might be had to discover the said deed. 
Unless the trustees shall have found this deed, it 
becomes the duty of the court to declare posses- 
sion to the natural heirs of Thomas Britton. ’ ’ 

“If your honor please,’’ began Mr. Gorman, and 
he stepped forward and laid before the judge the 
deed Wayne had dug out of the isle in the Missis- 
sippi Biver. 

Perfect quiet possessed the room as the judge, 
with elevated brows, perused the document, and 
scrutinized the acknowledgment and notarial 
seal. 

“I find it quite regular,” he said. 

Mr. Gorman then set before the judge the black 
tin box with its burden of $5,000 in bills. Deed 
and letter were given to Mr. Edmund Britton to 
read. 

When the Englishman had finished and returned 
the papers, the judge looked toward him, as if 


SCOUTS IN COURT 


235 


to discover in him any disposition to demur. 

Wayne, and the widow Albright, beside him, 
waited expectantly. 

‘‘Your honor, began the man, “I find nothing 
irregular. And it pleases me much to be able to 
state that our family shall find much satisfaction — 
and pride, in the result. I may add that I was 
expressly charged to make effort to discover the 
deed our cousin Thomas made, which discovery 
would assuage the hurt to the family pride, caused 
by the morally irregular transaction by which he 
came to possession of the property. I wish now 
to avow that in pursuit of this purpose, I surrep- 
titiously entered the house on the property and 
made search for this deed. I refrained from ask- 
ing permission for such entry, on fear of refusal 
on strength of my supposed interests, and I there- 
fore beg that my trespass shall be pardoned. I 
have one boon to ask. I desire very much to pos- 
sess that letter of Thomas’s; it will help, greatly, 
to rehabilitate him in the memory of his family, 
since it exhibits the resurrection of noble qualities 
of which the family has ever made boast.” 

The widow Albright answered the judge ’s inter- 
rogating look with a smile and nod of acquiescence. 

The judge finished the business duly. The 
widow Albright was informed that she and her 
children were now fully possessed of the estate, 
valued at $25,000 ; and the $5,000 in cash. 


236 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


The widow Albright gratitude was overflow- 
ing. She tried to press on Wayne one of the pack- 
ages of bills — $1,000 — till at his evident pain, the 
scoutmaster came to the rescue. 

Wayne accompanied the scoutmaster home, for 
needed rest, while the other Scouts carried the 
happy Mrs. Albright to her home in the launch. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THANKSGIVING 

G eorge Washington si boggs was 

taken into the employ of the Albrights, 
and in the course of time, there came from 
the governor of California his pardon for having 
broken prison. The scoutmaster had discouraged 
the Scouts visiting the Albrights homestead, prom- 
ising them a trip when the old place had been re- 
habilitated. 

On the Tuesday morning before Thanksgiving 
the scoutmaster called a meeting for the evening. 

When the Scouts were all assembled. Major with 
his head and ears in the ring as usual, Mr. Maclay 
asked the Scouts to express their opinion of a 
camp for a night or two up the river. 

The Scouts^ expressions came with a prompt- 
ness that startled Major. 

The next day, Wednesday, immediately after 
noon, they carried the outfit, including three new 
forester tents, to their two skiffs. Leslie’s uncle 
brought out his launch, and took the boats in tow. 
In an hour and a half they entered the mouth of 
237 


238 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Sycamore Creek and the outfit was soon on shore. 

There was no more ideal spot on the river for 
camping; high and dry, in the angle between the 
river and the beautiful creek. 

A bright, crackling fire soon chased the chill out 
of the little tents, and they sat in the open ends of 
the warmed shelters. 

‘specs’ we’ll soon see what they’ve been do- 
ing to the Albright mansion now, won ’t we f ” said 
Eay. 

“I imagine you will before you go home,” said 
the scoutmaster. 

What with gathering wood, exploring, and cook- 
ing, the afternoon soon was gone. Evening coun- 
cil lasted till ten, when the Scouts divided into four 
watches — two boys in each — taking two-hour turns 
in keeping the fire going the night through. In 
the morning the scoutmaster got breakfast, and 
dealt out to each no more than half his vaulting 
appetite called for. 

“Looks like scoutmaster has taken us out here 
to starve us,” said Eay, and he worked up a mock- 
complaining face. 

“Self-restraint is one of the things a Scout 
should learn,” offered Mr. Maclay. 

“But this is Thanksgiving Day!” pouted Eay — 
the others nudging one another and exchanging 
meaning looks. 


THANKSGIVING 


239 


‘^That makes the self-restraint all the more a 
virtue.’’ The scoutmaster with difficulty kept 
down his smile. 

Mr. Maclay kept the Scouts busy the morning 
through ; and it was nearing noon, when there rang 
through the woods the clear voice of a bugle, from 
beyond the creek. The Scouts pricked up their 
ears till the peremptory notes of a military call, 
once repeated, had ceased. 

‘‘That’s the ‘mess call,’ fellows,” said Charles. 

A short interval, and the bugle tones rang ‘ ‘ as- 
sembly. ’ ’ 

“Scouts, in line!” said the scoutmaster. In- 
dian-file, the Scouts followed Mr. Maclay through 
the woods, each boasting to himself a good guess 
as to what was coming. Up the right bank of the 
creek to the rustic bridge, thence by the path till 
. they came to the edge of the clearing, and in view 
of the fine old house, which once again looked 
spick and span. 

Its former desolation had taken flight. The 
windows and doors shone bright with new wh’^^^ 
paint ; the green blinds were set aright ; the broad 
stone steps rubbed white; weeds banished from 
the garden; and from that imposing brick pile 
rose two cheerful columns of smoke. 

At the door, the Scouts were met by the widow 
Albright, smiling, and her children. Miss Therese, 


240 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


and James Albright; behind them, the grinning 
George Washington Si Boggs. 

‘‘You are welcome to your new country home, 
Scouts, said Mrs. Ann Albright. 

The Scouts were steered into the big dining- 
room, and past a great long table laden with good 
things and flowers. After a few minutes to bask 
before the blazing logs in the big fireplace, they 
were hustled into seats about the long table. 
They were puzzled to find themselves separated 
by intervals of empty chairs. 

“Looks like they think we’re going to need 
elbow-room,” said Phil. 

“Aw, that means move up a peg for every 
course,” said Bay. “Wonder where the scout- 
master went? Here you, Bert, take your eye off 
that cake before you drill a hole clear through it.” 

“Silence, fellows,” said Leslie. “I heard a 
whistle. ’ ’ 

Then came a burst of music from an orchestra 
in some far corner of the house, the hall door 
opened, and in marched a company of men and 
women, each of whom went direct to a seat beside 
his or her son Scout. 

A big, browned, smoking turkey set by Boggs 
before the scoutmaster melted away quickly under 
his carving tools. Another followed and before 
he finished, four birds had gone the way. 

It was a happy party all around. There was 


THANKSGIVING 


241 


much talk, and music, and much business to and 
back from the ‘‘galley,’’ as Eay called the kitchen, 
in remembrance of the Whippoorwill, 

When at last Mr. Maclay ushered the Scouts 
across the hall, into the library, it was to feast 
their eyes on another spectacle. Eight chairs 
stood about another blazing log fire. And each 
was labeled with a Scout ’s name ; and bore a rub- 
ber poncho, and a gold watch. The Scouts soon 
had themselves arrayed. 

The widow Albright came in, bearing a little 
black leather box in her hand. On her appearance, 
the Scouts immediately became vociferous with 
manifestations of gratitude. 

She silenced them with a gesture, and proceeded 
to unclasp the little leather box, lifting out some- 
thing. Stepping over to Wayne, she deftly pinned 
the something on his left breast; and then before 
anything could be said, flitted out, closing the door 
behind her. Eay heaved an audible sigh. “This 
house is sure haunted,” he declared. “Now you 
see it — ^now you don’t. Put your hand on that 
thing, Wayne, before it flies away.” 

The center of interest was a solid gold scout 
badge on Wayne’s coat. It was richly set with 
diamonds, fit to dazzle any Scout ’s eyes. 

The Scouts were given the freedom of the house. 
They explored the garret, and made Wayne show 
them the secret recess in the den wall. 


242 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Finally, the Scoutmaster summoned the whole 
company and grouped them about him in the li- 
brary. On his lap he held a bundle of typewritten 
sheets. 

‘‘I have here,’’ he explained, ‘^a kind of history 
of the Scouts’ voyage down the river. Each has 
written for me as full an account as possible of his 
experiences. You parents have had some accounts 
of the various doings, when I have finished, you 
will know much more. ’ ’ 

The story he read surprised both Scouts and 
parents. Each Scout heard his own adventures 
retold with a vividness and accurateness that could 
not have been greater had the scoutmaster been 
present with him the whole of the time. And the 
scoutmaster had put into his writing many things 
the Scouts had not written in their logs. He gave 
the motive for nearly every action of each Scout; 
he seemed to know their minds quite as well as 
they did themselves. And they had not before 
realized how many things they had learned in 
those weeks on the river. 

The parents heard new things about their boys. 
The mothers sometimes showed signs of dismay, 
as in the narration of the stormy night under the 
tumbling bank. But the fathers smiled approv- 
ingly over the favorable account of the Scouts’ 
behavior in these emergencies. 


THANKSGIVING 


243 


It was dusk when the scoutmaster finished. 
And as the boys marched back to camp, they bore 
two baskets of good things for supper. 

All were assembled for evening council, when, 
“Scouts,’^ began Mr. Maclay, ‘‘how would you 
like this place for a regular summer camp?” 

“Great!” and “Best yet!” and “Finest on the 
river ! ’ ’ came the responses. 

“Well” — the scoutmaster brought something 
out of his pocket — “I have here a five-year lease, 
on all this woodland between Sycamore Creek, the 
river, and the west fence of the Albright Home- 
stead — about seventy acres. 

‘ ‘ Hurrah ! ’ ’ exploded Phil. 

“Oh, jolly! Three cheers for the widow Al- 
bright ! ’ ’ fired Ray. 

The noise must have been heard up at the house. 

At nine the Scouts crawled between their blan- 
kets. Wayne and Ray stayed up to keep the fire- 
watch, nine to eleven. 

Wayne sat looking into the blaze, sober and si- 
lent, as he had been for the most part of the eve- 
ning. Ray began to stretch and yaw. Presently 
Wayne spoke: 

“Crawl in, Ray, you’re tired. I’d like to keep 
watch alone to-night.” 

“Well, you are a queer sort,” said Ray. 

“ — All right, if you say so.” 


244 


BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT 


Wayne wanted to be alone and think. There 
were sensations inside him that he couldnT just 
figure out. 

He thought of the day just past. He was con- 
scious of the diamond-studded badge, which still 
glittered on his coat. But he knew it was not that 
which caused that inward — lifting feeling. He re- 
viewed his life, with its good and bad days. The 
day, long ago, when Slicky Murtry almost got him 
into trouble. The day he brought Slicky into the 
patrol. Why had he felt so happy that day? The 
day he helped the poor darky, George Mackinac 
Jackson, out of his trouble. The day he rescued 
Boggs in the cave. And now last, of the part he 
had taken in helping to right a great wrong. Why 
this great satisfaction, when others were the ma- 
terial gainers ? 

Eleven o’clock passed. Wayne did not call the 
next watch. He put more wood on the camp-fire. 

Presently a soft, mellow tone came through the 
woods. It was a peculiar melody — like as if it 
came from some one who was sad, yet happy. 
Wayne knew. It was Boggs with his ocarina, up 
by the rustic bridge. 

Wayne lay back against the log, and listened. 
And somehow it seemed as if Boggs was explain- 
ing things with the music. 


THE END 


THE BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES 


Published with the approval of 
The Boy Scouts of America 


In the boys’ world of story books, none 
better than those about boy scouts arrest 
and grip attention. In a most alluring way, 
the stories in the BOY SCOUT LIFE 
SERIES tell of the glorious good times and 
wonderful adventures of boy scouts. 

All the books were written by authors 
possessed of an intimate knowledge of this 
greatest of all movements organized for the 
welfare of boys, and are published with the 
approval of the National Headquarters of the Boy Scouts 
of America. 

The Chief Scout Librarian, Mr. F. K. Mathiews, writes 
concerning them: “It is a bully bunch of books. I hope 
you will sell 100,000 copies of each one, for these stories are 
the sort that help instead of hurt our movement.” 



THE BOY SCOUT FIRE FIGHTERS — CRUMB 
THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIGHTHOUSE TROOP — 
McLANE 

THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS — CHELEF 
THE BOY SCOUT TREASURE HUNTERS — EERR/GO 
BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT — WALDEN 
BOY SCOUTS COURAGEOUS— MATH/EIFS 
(Other volumes in preparation.) 

12 mo., Cloth, Illustrated, Per vol. 75 cents postpaid 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price 
by the publishers. 


Publishers 


BARSE a?- HOPKINS 
28 West 23rd Street 


New York 


THE GO AHEAD BOYS 

BY ROSS KAY. 


/ leave this rule for others when Fm dead: 

Be always sure you're right — THEN GO AHEAD. 

— Davy Crockett’s Motto, 



The love of adventure is inborn in all 
normal boys. Action is almost a supreme 
demand in all the stories they read with 
most pleasure. Here is presented a series 
of rattling good adventure stories which 
every live “go ahead” boy will read with 
unflagging interest. There is action, dash 
and snap in every tale yet the tone is health- 
ful and there is an underlying vein of re- 
sourcefulness and strength that is worth 
while. 


1 THE GO AHEAD BOYS ON SMUGGLERS’ ISLAND. 

2 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE TREASURE CAVE. 

3 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE MYSTERIOUS 

OLD HOUSE. 

4 THE GO AHEAD BOYS IN THE ISLAND CAMP. 

5 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE RACING MOTOR 

BOAT. 

6 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND SIMON’S MINE. 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

Cloth, Large I2mo., Illustrated, Per vol, 75 cents 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by 
the publishers. 


Publishers 


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28 West 23rd Street • New York 


THRILLING STORIES OF 

THE BIG EUROPEAN WAR 


THE BIG WAR SERIES 

{Trade Mark Registered) 

BY ROSS KAY. 



The big European War, one of the greatest 
epoch-making events in the world’s history, 
has been chosen by one of the best-known 
writers of juvenile fiction as the scene of a 
series of thrilling stories of these stirring 
times. 

Not a description of battles, nor the study 
of strategical campaigns, but good whole- 
some fiction with a little of the historical in- 
terwoven. These are authentic, instructive 
and exciting narratives on the greatest war 
in history. 


THE SEARCH FOR THE SPY. 

THE AIR SCOUT. 

DODGING THE NORTH SEA MINES. 

WITH JOFFRE ON THE BATTLE LINE. 

FIGHTING IN FRANCE. 

BATTLING ON THE SOMME. 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

Cloth, Large 12mo„ Illustrated, Per vol, 75 cents 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by 
the publishers. 


Publishers 


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28 West 23rd Street 


New York 


THE TOMLINSON SERIES 

BY EVERETT T. TOMLINSON. 



Interest in school life is perpetual. The 
young student, facing new surroundings, 
finds an element of romance and strong ap- 
peal; and to the older graduate college days 
recall some of the most pleasant memories 
of the past. 

Here are stories of school life and ath- 
letics, full of action and human interest. 
They deal with problems of life common 
to students and inspire the manly attributes 
of self-reliance and strength of character. 


THE PENNANT. 

CAPTAIN DAN RICHARDS. 

CARL HALL OF TAIT. 

JACK STONE OF TAIT SCHOOL. 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

Cloth, Large 12mo„ Illustrated, Per voL 75 cents 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by 
the publishers. 


Publishers 


BARSE & HOPKINS 
28 West 23 rd Street 


New York 


THE COLLEGE LIFE SERIES 

BY GILBERT PATTEN 


I 



Mr. Patten’s intimate knowledge of col- 
lege life and college athletics is clearly in- 
dicated in these volumes. They will inter- 
est alike the young collegian and the older 
graduate, for they deal with phases of life 
of which they are familiar. 


BOLTWOOD OF YALE. 

THE COLLEGE REBEL. 

ON COLLEGE BATTLEFIELDS. 

(Other volumes in preparation) 

Cloth f Large 12 mo,. Illustrated, Per vol, 75 cents 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by 
the publishers. 


Publishers 


BARSE & HOPKINS 
28 West 23rd Street 


New York 



“As Popular as the Game Itself” 
THE BIG LEAGUE SERIES 

{Trade Mark Registered) 

BY BURT L. STANDISH. 


Endorsed by such stars of baseballdom 
as Christy Mathewson, Ty Cobb and Walter 
Johnson. 

An American boy with plenty of grit — 
baseball at its finest — and the girl in the case 
— these are the elements which compose 
the most successful of juvenile fiction. You 
don’t have to be a “fan” to enjoy these 
books; all you need to be is really human 
and alive with plenty of red blood in your 
veins. 

The author managed a “Bush League” team a number of 
years ago and is thoroughly familiar with the actions of 
baseball players on and off the field. Every American, young 
or old, who has enjoyed the thrills and excitement of our 
national game, is sure to read with delight these splendid 
stories of baseball and romance. 

1 LEFTY O* THE BUSH. 

2 LEFTY O’ THE BIG LEAGUE. 

3 LEFTY O’ THE BLUE STOCKINGS. 

4 LEFTY O’ THE TRAINING CAMP. 

5 BRICK KING, BACKSTOP. 

6 THE MAKING OF A BIG LEAGUER. 

7 COURTNEY OF THE CENTER GARDEN. 

8 COVERING THE LOOK-IN CORNER. 

9 LEFTY LOCKE, PITCHER-MANAGER, 
lo GUARDING THE KEYSTONE SACK. 

Cloth, Large 12mo,, Illustrated, Per voU 75 cents 

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by 
the publishers. 



Publishers 


PARSE & HOPKINS 
28 West 23rd Street 


New York 


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